


As Safe As Houses

by Outgettingribs



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Multi, Original Character(s), POV Multiple, Post-Canon, Road Trips, Secret Organizations, more tags to be added as the story progresses, running from the goverment is hard when you have a thunder god always looking for fights
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 17:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13768995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Outgettingribs/pseuds/Outgettingribs
Summary: Being on the run from the government is one thing.Being on the run from the government in a car packed with  an half annoyed scientist , a walking technokinetic disrupter and a literal thunder god is a whole other case.But hey he can't complain about it, because where is there to go but up.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s night when he wakes. 

Remy arises from his stupor, feeling his legs crunch upward and allows himself the chance to wake. His vision foggy and unfocused at first. 

Fingers scramble for a sense of direction of his surroundings as the world rolls over, inviting him back into the land of the living. 

His hazy vision blurs with black stars and dusted clouds. Before he shakes it off and wipes his eyes. Feeling himself shudder away sleep as the more muted version of the room comes out clear. 

The floor feels weird, not like it should. It’s not soft and comforting like a full bed and he can’t feel for any sheets. His fingers crossing over bristled felt of rough leather. Feeling his nostrils fill with the aftershade of week old jerky and cold deli sandwiches. 

There's a muted croon of a radio bleating music, casting songs through aching boundaries of static, and when he hears it, it starts to click in. Starts to come on and make sense of where he is. 

He’s in a car. A big one at that, and there are huge bolted windows on either side of him that color dim shadow-black all around. Surveying no image of what his outside must look like. 

The seats are empty and his head pounds lightly as he raises some, searching the front ends of the vehicle. His back aches with splinters of uncomfortable injury, feeling something cracked and wet on the side of his face. 

A little more effort and he allows himself movement, gradual and not without much strain. He gets about as far as the seat divider in the middle before one of his legs slips, lurching forward. 

His head snaps with the front of the dashboard, panic seeping in as he lets one of his hands steer him for the radio. Finding purpose and a place for him to steady himself. He takes one shallow breath and grits his teeth, hissing from the sharp sting of pain afflicted to his forehead and the headache he currently nurses, swells with undignified rage. 

So much for checking his surroundings. 

He leans backwards and allows his hands to feather the back ends of the driver and passenger's seat for support. 

He really wishes he had the energy to not be so clumsy with it. If his mind wasn’t still trying to wake itself up, he would have just assumed it was the injuries from a week ago that were causing such a relapse in his former abilities. 

It’s almost embarrassing really, but he’s glad the car’s empty so he doesn’t have to struggle without the threat of prying eyes from his peers. 

When he makes it back to his original place, Remy tries for the back doors. This car is a bit spacious, bigger than most; and he forgets where they got it, but his memory picks up on key clues like running and black jets and panic. 

Which doesn’t really answer the question as it does resettle that biting nauseating feeling in him that only a particular memory could instill. 

He goes for the door on the left, hopefully unlocked. The felt of leather is crummy and itchy against his skin as he shifts forward. 

A hand moves to grab a hold of the car handle, hearing the familiar click of the door and pushes out, dispelling his worry. 

Despite the health of his body, and how it groans with light protest and his legs can’t seem to move the way that he wants to, he still manages to get out. Lets his body follow outward as he muscles through. Ignoring the combination of static feet and migraine that prod at his head like barbed wire, feeling the cool april air hits his face. Wayworn eyes scan the building ahead. 

The building is a gas station. 

A pretty unimpressive one at that. But he’s never really corresponded the definition of impressive with something like gas stations. Those were usually more reserved for things like gyms or stadiums and fancy twenty-four hour dive bars 

The place seems relatively empty. Which suggests that the night is late and maybe they got here a little too belatedly off schedule. he wouldn’t know unless he checks in. 

The rural atmosphere of this side of town pulls at a string in his chest, opting to take it all in slowly. There’s no other cars besides theirs here, save for one white pickup truck that’s by the front side of the building. 

The lot’s vacant street paints with the glow of the overhead sign atop the front of the door. Its rigid antiquated form rots with rust; lights blinking erratically every few seconds. 

He can barely pick out the name that glints against the windowpanes of the store, but can spot the others inside still. 

Nadiya at the front of the store, overlooks the cashier as Kardala seems to crack up about something. Probably a joke of hers, or something funny that's usually accompanied by her usual damage making havoc. And Mary is somewhere wandering around the back looking amongst the drink aisle. 

He shifts backwards and lets his shoulders shake away the tremors of anxiety they adjured to release. They’re okay, he can relax, and they’re somewhere far far away from where they originally started. 

Where they came from, he can still hears the blaring sirens and the costly fettered air that swarmed around like a silver edge sword in his throat when he yelled at them to run, told them to go. The memory comes back like a rush, and he catches himself some. Hand to his chest, circulating that same breath he failed to release for just a second. 

He needs to relax, stop thinking about it so much, it’s been a week but the scars are like a fresh wound. They don’t just go away just cause the coast is clear for a day or two. 

They still have to be careful. Somewhere between overthinking and the brazen need to check the time, Remy stumbles. 

His sneakers hit the pavement and he turns to check the back seat for a sign of his phone. The space surrounding the back is dark, hard to see without a light, but his hands carry to his prized possession. 

It’s a miracle at all that he still managed to hold on it anyways, despite the muddled grouses of Nadiya’s words. He lets an arm grab for it, picking at the screen as little bits of it scrape off from the tips of his fingers. 

The curve of his lips tip down lightly at the fractured screen. Its light dim and he catches the time just as quick as he shuts it off. 11:45. 

They’ve been on the run for a while, he can still retrace back how far they had traveled for. Two to three hours, a hundred and sixty something miles of nothing but open roads and empty streets. 

Jungles of trees and fields as far as they’ve seen and they took longer routes because the busier ones weren’t worth the hassle. Mary was good with that, seemed she traveled somewhere up north before settling for Louisiana. They were grateful. 

And the government incident was a week ago. Three days of trouble, four days of running; forty-eight hours of bickering and screaming, and fighting off an airborne threat. 

That might have been a mistake, but his memory blanks with where things went wrong. He could argue it was when they dropped off the king and his lackey in front of the White House. Maybe that was the misstep. 

He wasn’t sure but the good news was they had gotten away, maybe not unscathed, but clearly still in one piece. Even with the bad guys hopefully behind bars, there was still the threat behind what they were now, and how this secret organization business would get wrapped up into the media. They were lucky just not causing too much of a scene. 

Getting away is the easiest part of this plan, finding out where to go from there is the hardest. 

He sits back down in the space of the car with the door hanging open to let the air sway against the curls of his hair. It’s nicer than the air in the A/C, which is broken. 

They really need to find some way to fix it or better yet find a better car. This one was actually a luxury, a lucky find if he could call it anything else. 

Military based cars are alway so large and so spacious. It’s a wonder they even came across it at all, but thank god for it anyway. And since they have a seven-foot goddess to worry about, it’s an added bonus. 

Well maybe. 

Her head still hits the ceiling a little bit, and her legs crunch up the same ways Remy does when there’s not really enough room. Packed car rides are never any fun if you’re stuck behind the seats, height be damned and it’s worse for sleep, but he can’t complain. 

It’s better than being behind bars, it’s better than whatever the fuck the government had planned for them. 

And the Fellowship, he forgets, must still be out there too. He can’t shake the feeling off about them, they’re probably still looking. 

They have so much on their plates to avoid and yet the first things that cling to his mind the most is Home. 

It’s the little things that trigger this sort of petulant mood out of him. Where he looks at small towns and big bustling cities and thinks about the way he used to venture with his family there. The thrill of visiting a new city whenever there were contests. He and his brother built such competitive streaks when they were young. He never forgot, can't forget it. 

The way he watches the lights of the streetlamps at night burn the ground in washed colors of blue and yellow. or how the diners they visit every once and awhile remind him of family dinners. 

He’ll recall a meal that reminds him of something, little things like fast stop kiddie meals and Rita shakes. They'll go to restaurants he knows were family favorites. Thinking of Dom and Kevin, and something in his heart burns warm and desperate. 

It’s these things that leave him wondering about his family. a little well off thought in his head that only comes on late dead nights. 

When he thinks everyone’s asleep, he contemplates playing with the phone for a bit. Scrolling fast through old messages, rereading empty conversations; pictures, anything for a simple reminder. 

He knows that’s all he can really do with it. He can’t call Dom and he knows these things are easy to track so it’s better to just leave it alone, and leave the phone off. 

He’ll gonna have to dispose of it soon, maybe throw in the nearest ditch or somewhere in a lake if they find a body of water. It’ll suck but it’ll keep things simple and it’ll keep the government off their tracks for a while. Most importantly it’ll keep a certain-- 

“ Hey.” 

A voice cuts through his thoughts, Remy jostles, more aware of where he’s at. To search the field, he spies someone in his peripheral vision and squints. 

Nadiya stands by the back of the car, her hair tied neatly into a tight bun on her head. Little strands peak out from the ends, he notices the drink in her hand, a small coffee, and calms. 

“ Oh...hey.” 

She takes one sip from the cup, eyeing the gas filling station they’re at. then looks up at the number on the sign that protrudes from the wall, holding it all together. “ Did we fill up again?” 

He can’t remember the last time they’ve ever stopped for gas, it couldn’t have been that long ago however. He scratches at the side of his face and feels dried up spit there on the meat of his cheek. 

Nadiya, who watches from beneath her glasses, frowns. “ Gross.” 

He ignores the feigned comment of disgust and picks at it, nails scraping with a gentle tip. Tongue stuck out, he licks the ends and works it off with just a swift rub and pointed strokes. 

Nadiya scoffs, top lip curling into a sneer. The act of it makes her face blend wicked under the shadows of the night. “ Are you kidding me? Get a napkin you absolute caveman.” 

Remy looks at her and shrugs, “ Don’t have one.” 

She’s not amused by it, leering as her mouth forms up another retort. Then stops and mutters to herself as she sticks a hand into her bag and pulls out two scrunched up white sheets. “ Here. For your trouble.” 

He’s surprised at the gesture, noting her push as he reaches out and takes the napkins from her. It seats in his lap, unused. “ Wow thanks Nadiya. This is probably like the first genuine gesture of kindness you’ve shown to me since Thursday.” he says, then looks up to her. “ What’s the occasion, is it my birthday?” 

She rolls her eyes. “ Hardly. I just didn’t feel like talking to someone with two day old slobber still on their face. Forgive me if that was being too nice.” 

And that hits him like a brick. Two days. 

Three days of trouble, four days of running, forty-eight hours of-- twenty-seven hours of… 

He blinks it off, tongue stuck to the inside of his cheek, leg bouncing as the jitters hit him. 

He’s been asleep for two days. Two whole days. Two days of something, two days of missing action, two days of being cramped in a car with superpowered runaways. Forty-eight hours… forty-eight. 

Something in the way he stays silent and doesn’t open his mouth to counter her, must show well enough on his face, because Nadiya takes a step forward. Her caution withholding judgment. “ Remy? Hello?” 

He must not have heard, still yet moving, shaking the curls of his hair out of his face. He tries to stand up. 

“No.” Nadiya utters, her command is met like a brisk slap of warm air against the side of his face. Hot but not searing and he pauses mid way. 

His legs suddenly feel like jello, wobbly and unfocused. And for some reason, standing is lot more taxing than it should feel like. A hand presses him back down into the safety of the car. 

He fumbles just from the movement, and catches the back end of the open doorway with his hand, seizing the control. Nadiya, takes notices, but her push is gentle, even as he tries to get her to step back. Even as his mouth fills up with reassurance,-- _(he’s okay. okay? )_ she doesn’t move from her place by the opening, letting his shoulder go. 

His mouth feels like cotton, throat clogged up, clammy and he licks his lips. Unused to this. “ Let me..” He says, more slowly, voice cracking against the air. “Let me go for a run, please for just a second…or a minute, or an hour.” 

“No.” she repeats, though it’s firm this time, her gaze heavy beneath the rims of her glasses. He can barely notice the color without any light around them. But her back lights up with same washed muted splash of the streetlight. 

Curving to her body like a second coat. He watches the way it glides over, stares past the blanched shades of yellow and pale green. “ No runs tonight, you can do that tomorrow.” 

“ Why not?” he says, without warning, no constraints left to hinder his question. He doesn’t feel like dealing with another night of restless anxiety. 

“ Because..” Nadiya starts, “ I said so, and because we’re leaving in a few minutes. Once those two are done wrapping up their little grocery shopping spree, we’re out of here.” 

And those words should undo the block of cement in his gut, should make him feel better. But the encasing wall of uncertainty that twists up inside his chest at the mention of forty-eight hours and no recollection of what transpired between, sits pretty in front of him undeterred. Blocking him into this state. He gulps some, his stomach roping itself into a knot. 

“ We’re leaving soon. Relax.” She affirms, her hand is gone, that little bit of comfort is gone. But he says nothing. 

“ I swear it’ll be for a minute.” 

“Remy.” 

“Just one minute.” 

“No.” 

His tongue drags against the roof of his mouth, cheeks blistering, then calms, there’s no point in arguing. “Fine.” 

Nadiya steers back at the response. “ Good.” 

When he thinks it’s over, he searches the glow of the store for the others. Kardala’s shape darting around like a blurred spot in his peripheral. 

He sinks backs in. 

Nadiya stands, giving him space, her eyes far off. “ The sooner we get out of this dump town and on to the road, the better. Then you can stretch your legs out all you’d like when we reach the next destination..” 

Next destination. Keyword, next. Not final. 

His gaze lowers to the floor, avoiding other means of conversation, then spots the phone. He shifts his legs, tapping soft, scooting it under the seat, he doesn’t want her to see it. She can’t see it. There would be too many questions, and he wouldn't be able to handle it. 

The others come just as Nadiya rounds the corner of her side of the car, the engine ignites to life, ringing in his ears. Kardala is a spiel of laughter and half explained admiration for the Food Donkey’s glorious bout of jerkey; uproarious and blinding. 

He half nods at the words, and Mary’s as silent as he’s ever see her be since the incident. 

Red hair overblown and pressed hazardly against the back of her seat. There’s a calm emotion about her, and the straw between her lips chokes noisily as she strangles juice from a big chunk of ice at the bottom of her cup. Sitting back more, her body eases into the seat, smile hidden beneath red colored ice. 

“ Sorry we took so long, had to make sure Kardala didn’t go too buck wild on the jerky stand.” She says, turning her head. 

“ I have my thanks to the food donkey. Such a wide selection of intricate meats!” There’s a noise of a wrapper being forcely ripped from the seams, followed by the obvious noise and smell of garlic black pepper. A smile half muffled by Kardala’s praise in between chews. 

“ Can I have some?” Remy asks, his body finds home in the space near the window. He watches plainly as the goddess rips into another bag. His the expression is all for false though, a smile curving gradually in rising amusement. 

She turns, and nods. “ Of course, you must try them for yourselves.” 

Nadiya all but ignores their chatter, putting the a/c on blast and begins their drive. 

The jerky has a nice taste to it. Not what he’s used to. But it’s something, and he’ll take any food he can get at this point. 

They ride in silence save for Kardala’s snacking and the idle croons of the radio moving them along. 

After an hour, he stops thinking of the phone and of the winding road ahead of them. After two, he’s noticing the noises in the car are dozing off into the bristled wind outside, panting against their windows. After three, he doesn’t even know where the jitters in his leg went or where the migraine in his head fled off to. 

All he cares to look at now are the night’s sky and the way the stars seems to run against the speed of the trees. Thinking of all the weird convoluted conspiracies he could talk about, like other life forms and secret cryptids. Because if things like superheros can exist why can’t that? 

Two days. Forty eight hours. They past the border. 

Goodbye Blackstone Virginia. Hello North Carolina.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rocky Mount, North Carolina. Remy gets his run. Nadiya's tired, Mary's fed up, and Kardala finds a friend.

“Remy.” 

“Remy.” 

Remy…!!” 

“Hmm?” Remy looks up, blinks a couple of times, the oft-repressed invitation to a yawn halted. 

Nadiya with her arm still halfway across the table, snaps her fingers once more before pulling back, eyeing him frustratedly. 

“Wake up! I'm asking you something.” 

Remy scrubs at the sleep in his eyes, and makes a note of his surroundings. The air in here is cold, but not enough to be noticeable, and there's something like bitter fruit on the tip of his tongue, acrid and biting. Finding himself sitting at a table booth with a plate of food in front of him. 

The diner is quiet, mostly vacant but cozy. Despite the emptiness, the drivel from the kitchen’s workload continues. There's a radio spooning out songs from the 80s somewhere in the background. A dull grinding and the clink of glass distracts the noisy thump of his leg, knocking against the underside of the table. 

Food fills up the space of the table. Though most of it is half eaten and torn apart into scraps, his plate he finds, is still cold and untouched. 

“Huh?” 

“I asked you a question.” Nadiya repeats, her arm is off the table now, tapping a pencil’s spine against the edge with rhythmic pace. “Should we go east or west?” 

There’s a silence that sits between them, only shaken by the loud obnoxious slurp of Mary’s straw. Buzzing flies that circle the air, crawl across the peeling linoleum, towards the edge of his plate. He promptly swats them away, glancing down at the table where a rumpled black and white print out of a map, sits beneath a coffee mug. Bits of bacon crumbs sprinkling its width, and what Remy thinks is a cheese stain, circles over the blurred name of a city. 

“Uhh—” He’s not sure what to make of it, or what it is he’s looking at. 

His response is cut off by a half disguised sigh of exhaustion from the other side of the booth. Nadiya slides further back into her seat, her fingers finding home with her temples. “Nevermind…” 

“I think east sounds good.” Mary pipes in, another loud slurp from her straw pops the surface tension of silence. “ We can avoid a lot of traffic that way, and there are some notably safe routes we could take.” 

“ So you keep saying…” Nadiya moves her cup off the corner of the map. She makes another mark on the left side. Scribbling out something in black, but Remy can only see so far, and her arm covers most of what he can’t see. 

“Why only take the safer routes?” Kardala asked through hasty chews of bacon and bits of egg. Her words spit with the residue of food still glued to the corner of her lips, before wiping it away with a napkin. “ Are there more difficult ones that we should take? Shouldn’t we be challenging ourselves to something more extraneous than the one we’ve taken?” 

“Because safe is good and doesn’t push us into pitiful traffic or lead into trouble with the state law.” Nadiya answered, her head lowered and gaze glued to the map below, scribbling lines over the roads. 

“ Kardala thinks we should take the more difficult ones!” 

“ Absolutely not.” 

“ Well what about the back roads?” Mary suggests, her fiery hair tied messily in a bun atop her head, shifts as she tilts to get a better look. Some of the loose strands tickle the etched veins of Nadiya’s hand. “ We could try coasting along the eastern seaboard, and take less routes by heading down route 64, which intersects with highway seventeen…” 

“ We’ve been doing nothing but backroads this entire time, why wouldn’t we keep trying there?” 

” Hey I’m just pointing stuff out for you." The redhead raises her hands up in defense, leaning away from the other's glare. "Trying to be as helpful as I can since somebody doesn’t wanna give up the driver’s seat.” 

Nadiya sets the pencil down onto the table, a hand comes to her forehead and exhales sharply. “None of you are in any condition to drive.” 

“Says who?” 

“ Uhh says me.” Nadiya says, untucking the glasses from her shirt pocket to better examine something, fingers darting over the map. "Out of the four of us, I'm the most qualified and the most responsible." 

Mary folds her arms, the corner of her eyes crinkling as she squints." I don't think I follow.." 

“You’ve been walking around woozy and sick since the fight we had a week ago, and the after effects of that encounter have not left you since then. I’ve been carting you and Remy around like mindless zombies for the past couple of days. And on top of that, Kardala is a seven foot goddess with no license and no obvious regard for the rules of the road. So naturally the role of the driver falls to myself." 

Remy hates when they do this—arguing. It’s a thing only known by these two whenever it comes up for someone to drive. The arguments were always so trivial, and he could never understand why it would be hard to switch it up every once in a while, but he can see where some of the points Nadiya has lie, and he knows some of what she’s saying is the truth, however much he wished it weren't. 

They’ve been at this thing for a while now. Four hours at least, but it's not long enough for them to recognize the discernible ailments they each share. 

The one they had a week ago, involved a lot of energy, some of which they didn't have, and ended on a relatively bad note. Granted that they still got away, the hours it took to heal and rest from it were excruciatingly long to really render it as such. 

Mary’s scars are just as visible, despite how badly she admits against this, and Remy knows his headaches and the constant aches in his legs are a sign for something. 

But Nadiya, she’s been doing most of the driving; and anybody here can see the effects these long hour drives have taken to her. And even though she tries to cover it, the signs still show well enough in her appearance. Eyes ringed with shadows, hollowing out the grooves of her face and tangled hair sits messily tied back. 

She looks like she hasn’t slept in days, and it’s painfully obvious to see. At this point, someone has to step up and take over for wheel privileges. So he drags his attention to the conversation. 

“ That’s such bullshit, and I thought we all agreed that I was fine.” Mary shoots her a pointed look. From where she used to lean, her hair sticks to the back of the seat, tangled together like clumped moss as she comes forward. 

One of her fingers points accusingly from across the table. “ You and I agreed two states ago, that I was fine, did we not?” 

“You’ve been coughing up blood since the ride from DC.” Nadiya says, looking up. “Trust me when I say, you’re far from it.” 

“You guys know I can drive….right?” Remy interrupts. His tongue finding his lips, feeling chapped and cracked down the middle. "Like I'm not a complete klutz.." 

He didn't want to intervene, but putting himself into the middle of it feels right somehow, feels like he needs to. Like he has to say something, force in some form of input, or a word or- whatever, just to not hear them bicker like this at seven in the morning. 

The two of them actually back off from their feud. And there’s a sense of clarity in the silence that follows, saved for the muffled noise of Kardala’ side of the table. 

They turn to him, all vacuous eyes torn from each other, and they meet his confused. Like they had only noticed he was there. 

He gulps what little drink he has still in his mouth. “ I mean just to switch up the load a little bit. We’ve been going on these roads for like what-one week now? Two? You’ve been picking up the slack, getting us where we need to be quicker than most of us could. But I feel like you’re just draining yourself this way. Like I can’t make the decision for you but—.” 

Nadiya scowls and leans back in her seat to peer back at the empty tables around them. There's something unsettling about the look in her eyes, but Remy knows it's just a look of thinking. Beneath the rim of her glasses, a quiet dispute nestles deep within her wandering gaze. 

“He has a point." Mary interjects. “You’ve been taking on the driver role for quite some time now, and it would be good to give that up for some rest." 

He hears Nadiya sigh and watches as she drops her pencil. “Yeah well, I can manage it just fine, thank you.” 

Mary whines. " Oh come on Nadiya." 

"Absolutely not. Nobody is in any condition to be driving right now, so sayeth me, so don't ask me again." "So why don't you just let Irene drive? She could take over for you." 

" Irene isn't available right now, and Kardala isn't going to just revert back into her "prison" for a little drive." Nadiya returns her attention back to the map, looking over the routes again. But her fingers go up at the mention of 'prison', notifying the emphasis. 

"You don't know that." Mary says. 

Remy, leans back in his seat and spares a glance at the taller god at the table. "Dala?" he asks, "You game for that?" 

The goddess, who was steadily making her way through another plate of bacon, pauses to look down at her companion. "Unneccesary! Kardala will not be pushed back into that feeble prison of Irene. To asked me if I would consider such a thought, is a farcical endeavor that shall not be indulged." 

Nadiya raises a challenging brow. " See?" 

" But, if you wish for me to take over the "wheel", I am more than manageable to--" 

Mary groans and slides back further into her seat. " Oh god...No Dala, that won't be necessary." 

A moment of silence spreads through the table after the debate had faded. The faint noise of the TV behind them, statics and patters on with a early news report. The words drowned out by the wind banging against the seals of the windows. Remy takes a moment to look at the scenery outside. 

From the window, it looks cold, white pale sky, the sun a bloated gold. Shimmering but dim, though he knows it's high April still. Cars roll past at a break neck speed. If it weren't for the wetness on the windows and the blustering blow of the wind thrashing against the trees outside, he would have thought it was a nice day. 

Thinking about how the weather had been before they showed up in this town, makes him wish they had waited a bit. Find a better place- a better town or a better city before settling for something like this. 

It's too murky and grey to eat out now. Given that they've been on the road for hours, and the geostorm of rain that had followed them, hadn't let up since. Which Remy thinks, is a real damn shame too. Because this restaurant smells like stale piss and rotten eggs. 

Nadiya had been the first one to point it out, and had made a point to pick somewhere else to eat. But he had insisted that they take their break now. And since they hadn't seen a strip of fast food shops in the rapid blur of one story buildings, this was the best they could find. 

He had no problem with it before, but as of now he was highly rethinking that decision. Mary’s nose had been wrinkled since they’ve walked in, and as funny as she looks like that, he figures maybe they should’ve waited out another hour to find something else. 

Well, it's neither the first nor the worst seedy diner they'd eaten in on this little road trip, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. 

Eventually Kardala finishes, and Nadiya lets up from her scribbles to quickly down the last of her coffee. 

"A fine meal!" belched a full Kardala, making a show of patting her stomach once before settling back. "Perfect for a warrior as fit and famished as I have been these past few days." 

"Yeah I bet it was." Mary yawns, lifting herself up from her seat. She lets her back arch, stretching her arms as an audible pop pulls from it. " Are we done here? Cause I could use another nap." 

" I bet. It's all you ever really do anyway." Nadiya sips gingerly from her refilled cup, a half empty coffee pot by her elbow. She ignores the look Mary gives her and returns back to the map, tapping her pencil. 

" Yeah, it is about time, so..." Remy lets his hands press to the table, flickers his gaze towards the three of them, voice dropped low. "You guys ready to blow this popsicle stand?" 

"Remy you don’t need to whisper, we’re right here." Nadiya scolds, placing a hand on the table with a scowl. But when she lifts her hand, it sticks to the tabletop, a moment, something clear and syrupy coming away on her palm. 

Remy raises a comical brow while Mary covers a hand over her mouth in surprise. 

It's seconds of strained silence, before half the table erupts in laughter and Nadiya's standing up, cheeks hot with embarrassment. 

" Alright, I'm going." She says, between gritted teeth and stuffs her hands with napkins before storming out. 

They watch her leave, humor rolling off their shoulders, and Remy turns to look back at Mary, still smiling. 

" You ready for another one?" 

"If you mean spending another couple hours cramped up in a car with Captain Serious behind the wheel? Then no I'm not." She tosses her hair back, leaning back lazily with one arm over the bend of the booth. 

" Yeah." He huffs, the corner of his eyes crinkling. 

Mary returns the smile, laughter cupped behind the palm of her hand as she shakes it off. Then turns her attention elsewhere. 

The smile drops minutes after, blinking wide eyes catch a scene somewhere beyond Remy's head. " Uh..." 

He follows her gaze, leading to an archaic miniature TV a top the stand by the bar. Its antennae sticking out in different directions. 

News plays on the old, box-like TV. A short dirt-haired woman speaks, while a ticker says something about breaking news and a country on high alert. He swallows thickly as the next segment, titled Enhanced runaways rolls in. And a blurry picture of them is showcased on the screen, Kardala's shadow a vague phantom in the dusted mist. 

~ -" There seems to be some debate from authorities on the legitimacy of this new 'threat'. But word from the Secretary of Security is there is a nationwide manhunt for these four unnamed runners, who attacked a few government agents outside the White House several days ago. Citizens are advised to seize caution when coming into contact with these enhanced individuals. As they are to be deemed highly dangerous..." 

Remy feels his stomach drop, his heart skipping a beat, and freezes. " Is that..?" 

He's too afraid to look over now, too afraid to meet any eyes, Somewhere beside him, Kardala shifts. 

He feels the way Mary's eyes prick pins and needles into his neck, biting his lip some. 

They make eye contact with each other. 

"Should we- maybe...?" 

"Yeah, we should go." 

They both stand up, almost abruptly as their shoes scrape across the floor and the plates shake. Kardala takes notice and does the same. Remy drops a couple dollars on the table and follows Mary out of the diner. 

They leave their half eaten breakfast for the flies.   

* * *

Remy closes his eyes at 10 am in Rocky Mount, North Carolina, and opens them again three hours later in Stanley County. 

They had driven through the morning, the sun a hot gold above the 

clouds, and he sits back against soft leather. 

Outside the line of trees seems endless, a blur of early spring green starting to push against the stark remains of winter edging over the bark. The wind picks up through the car’s open windows, he lets a finger trail top of the pane, riding against the current, and breathes in deep as the wild-pine of the air circles over his face. 

Eventually their ride leads them to a park. Big and spacious and full of acres upon acres of wild wild land. It’s close enough to a river that the theme of it has a bit of a seaside thrill to it, makeshift canoes line the side of the rest stop cabins. Paper bag brown wood and the peeling yellow on the sign, that dust the words Morrow Mountain State Park, brings a soft feeling of comfort in Remy as he reads it from his side of the car. 

He thinks it's a fitting place to stop, given the fact that everyone in this car could use the extra time to relax and give their bodies the chance to relieve the stress that pulls at them. Especially someone like him, who’s been itching to get out and stretch his legs all day. 

He’s the first to come out, lets his feet hit the soft crunch of grass beneath him and breathes out deep. The strain of his legs aches deep, pushing back the way his bone cracks with appeasing stretch. 

He takes two steps away from the car, before stopping short and turning to find the others still by the vehicle. 

All of them have a sense of restlessness in them, however much present it seemed, And it showed well on their faces even if the presence of it was more faint in theirs than his. The door to the car slams, suddenly, and it takes Remy a second to spot the source of the sound as Kardala’s built figure shoves her door open, foot-first, launching herself out of the car. 

Mary waits in her seat, but the door to her side of the car is already opened, and Nadiya pulls out from her side, to come and lean against the car, door slammed back just as loudly. 

“Finally!” Kardala yells, a smooth fervent smile creeps across her face, “Freedom to roam and explore!” 

Remy feels a smile crawl against his own, he had a feeling this was what Kardala wanted as well. 

“ Wanna run with me Dala?” 

The corner of her eyes crinkle at the suggestion. “ Absolutely, I could use the time to get my strength back.” 

He nods and then tilts his head to look back at the other two behind her. “ Is that alright with ya’ll? We’re just gonna go on a quick run, won’t be long, I promise.” 

Nadiya, from where she stands, doesn’t bother looking in either his or Kardala’s direction. “ Great, have fun. Don’t get caught doing anything illegal, or otherwise anything that could get us in trouble. We’ll be hanging out over there.” She says, gesturing over to a picnic area underneath the shade of several trees nearby. 

“Twenty to thirty minutes tops.” Remy tells her, briefly starting to walk away, the sun making markings on his exposed neck.” It’s all I’ll need really. Thirty minutes.” 

She doesn’t look up. “Whatever", she says, shoulders tilted, jerkily, and if her voice shakes for just a moment, he doesn’t mention it. “ Just don’t get lost.” 

He nods once and begins his jog.   

* * *

Time to Remy, holds little to no meaning to him when he runs. When he moves,time seems to flow at a constant slow state, inching at a crawl he can’t quite comprehend, when he glides with the motion of his feet. It’s a common thing he’s always known when he was young, well past the timeless memories of built up gyms and old highschool races. 

Little things like happiness and home, and the sharp sea-blue image of his family cut up into snapshots in his head. These things that he remembers, are the same sort of things he held on to as a kid. When he needed to put away the stress, he would always make time for runs like this. They were helpful, something to take his mind off the things he didn’t need to think about right now. 

Whether it was a minute or two, or just an hour, or a whole day, running had become an anchor, something to keep him grounded, while the world around him moved at an iceberg pace. 

When he runs, those worries he hides, deep under, aren’t a distraction anymore. His mind closes up, and the only things he focuses on is his feet carrying him from point A to point B in simple steps. Freeing motion and quick turns through the woods, grass and gravel pushing off his soles beneath him. 

He’s used to going at a speed that is easy to maintain, it is a thing he has learned from living with his brother for so long. The competitive streaks they both share, things that have been driven into each of them since the beginning. Dom learning to be an athlete to succeed because he love the thrill of it, and Remy because he wanted to follow in the footsteps of his other. 

Here is something he remembers, as he glides down the path paved in the dirt, the sounds of his footsteps and heavy pants drowning out the calming song of the forest. Here he remembers, somewhere coming off the valleys of thirteen and running five miles in the rain, the slippery feeling of his shoes hitting the pavement of the street he used to roam alongside his brother. Chasing each other through the storm and finding themselves soaked to the bone, sweat and rain sticking to their clothes like hot searing glue and laughter echoed through the heavy breaths of their lungs. 

He was thirteen, a gifted athlete, and at such a young age, he is seen as such by his peers and family alike. He lived a good life, had a nice house somewhere off the coast of a beach, picking at seashells and running across its sandy terrain, watching the sun get chased away into the sea by the clouds. 

He had a nice tight knit family, a mother of science and a doctor for a father, a brother just as brash and wild haired as he was, and together they make a family of four, happy and anxious but ambitious, the family of Rembrandts, as they’ve always been 

Remy lived a good life, a happy life, he had his plans for the future, he thinks he knows exactly where he will go, what he will become, and when that time came, he took to it boldly as anyone in his family would. Success held in the palm of his hands, he thought he’d go far. 

And then— 

He’s fifteen when bright red and blue lights paint the driveway of his home in surrealist swirls against the dirt. He’s at the top of the stairs when his brother answers the door, two police officers come with heavy hands wrapped around their hats and heavy grave faces, bearing their news. 

And— 

He finds himself at a divided pathway, divulged between a broken corpse of a tree, and quickly makes up his choice, propelling his movement towards the right and heading down the rocky slope. 

He runs, bringing back the solicitude and calm to his head, its a bad thought he can’t wrap himself in. So he pushes it aside, making his next round onto the trail at a speed only recognizable to him and him alone, the trees a swallowing blur of green and red around him. 

He keeps going, and upon the third mile in, starts to thinks of his brother. His thoughts jumble up, a skip and a stretch through a valley of memories swirled into one singular blob of intricate thought, and he calms, slowly remembering the routine run he and brother would do when they were younger. 

They have a rhythm of sorts, he remembers, because it was one of the easiest things to do back then, running in time with one another, an easy steady rhythm in their legs, like synchronized dancers, left foot, right foot , breathe in, breathe out, one two, one two, one, two. 

An easy thoughtless routine. 

They run together side by side in perfect sync, a linkage that can’t be broken no matter the weather or the heat or the grief they felt in the heavy absence of their parents. Even as he tries not to think about them, the correlation of time between those days spent with his brother and their disappearance is an overwhelming burst of things all melted into one bittersweet memory. He knows just one thought on behalf of what happened to them, will break the illusion, and if he falls from that he knows he'll crumble and it’s— 

He can’t think about it, he can’t, he won’t. 

So he keeps running. 

When he runs, he feels like he can achieve anything, and go on a thousand miles without stopping. Racing against the wind itself, the motions of his feet and the patterns that which he takes with every calculated step, moves him like a rhythmic wave. His body becoming one thing, fully in sync with himself, the world a frozen turning axis and he is free, and he is content, and he is many many many things bundle into one singular organism. A burst of pure energy, like heat lightning on a clear summer day. 

Easy. Thoughtless. Routine. 

Eventually he reaches a clearing and finds it leading up to a river that flows eastward up, his feet carries him to it, before he stops and breaks his rhythm to halt in place at the ends of the bank, looking out towards the other side. 

Somewhere along the way, he lost sight of Kardala, having taken twists and turns throughout the forest, and with the racing thought process of his mind at the moment and at the momentum he was going at, it was easy to get lost. Knowing Kardala though, she’s probably not that far off, and if not, has probably made it back somehow. Either way he had stopped worrying about it the moment he pushed himself to run. 

He takes deep breaths, an effort at trying to calm himself, and comes to sit by the bank-side where the grass comes to an end by the smooth wet pavement of sand. Shaky legs finding space to crouch, and he settles backwards now, bones brittle-weak with stress, and lets one of his legs come up and greet his chest. Thoughts piling in at a full tilt, but he can’t pressure himself with memories that cut deep anymore. 

Instead he thinks of his brother, and wonders if he even knows what's going on in his life. Wonders if he’s cooped up during late nights worried sick over him. The thoughts make his stomach roll itself into knots, makes his throat burn and his chest close up like a rock going down the wrong pipe, and if he feels breathless after when he swallows it down, he doesn’t make note of it. 

He can’t keep thinking about it, all it ever does for him is make him feel guilty for never trying to reach out. He should have made an effort when they first left, somewhere in between snapshot blurs of seedy diners and dark backcountry roads. It would have been easy then, now it’s not so much so. 

He thinks of the phone sitting in his pocket, considers pulling it out and opening it. It’s a bad idea and he knows it, - and maybe this is a mixed feeling of his, but he feels as though something should be said. Something should be announced or at the least spoken about, just to let them know he’s okay. 

The phone sits like a foreign object in his hand, hesitation in every shake of his fingers as he bounces his other hand against his thigh, thinking. It would so easy. Just to open it up and call, just dial one number and end this wall of radio silence he’s built up between them for weeks. He knows Dom had to have called at some point, he had to - and given that the broadcast had happened, and he knows somewhere in that graying fray he was in it, there’s no doubt in his mind that he knows his brother knows. 

Remy bites his lips, closes his eyes. 

For a moment he can feel himself almost press the little green call button, can feel himself slipping just ever so lightly as he puts pressure on the screen. Almost, almost… 

He breathes out, can almost smell the crisp pine air on the inhale. 

Nothing happens. 

At the last second, when he thinks he has it in him to try-- to reach out, it doesn’t happen. And he stops himself, anxiety oozes out of him in waves and suddenly, the phone in his hands feels like sharp thorns in his palm. On instinct, something he knows too often, he drops it. 

And it clambers into the soft grass beneath his leg, the sun glinting off the camera lens as he leans forward and cradles his head in his hands. 

God, he wish he could do this, he really wish he had the strength to do this... 

A minute passes, wind sweeps the grass against his ankles and the soft crooning sounds of the lake are the only things he has drowning out his thoughts. 

Eventually he gets up and pockets his phone and decides to head back to the others. Thinking he’s been out here long enough. 

When he makes it back, he finds the others still sitting under the trees, he wipes the sweat away from his forehead, approaching slowly. 

“Everything alright?” he says, a little too loudly, still trying to catch his breath. 

Mary looks up, hair out of its messy bun, and smiles. “ Yeah, we’re fine. How was the run?” 

“ It was great, got out all my energy." He smiles proudly, like it’s an achievement. Five miles in half an hour really should be. 

He considers taking his shirt off, just to rid him of some of the stickiness, before pushing away the thought. He’ll have time to do that later, maybe, when he’s not in the presence of the others and behind closed doors. Instead, he lets his fingers tuck and pull at his shirt playfully before coming under the shade and sitting down at the table. 

Nadiya, who had her head down, looks up momentarily, a frown creeping gradual across her face. “ Ugh, you reek…” 

“ That’s usually what happens when you go for a run.” He retorts back, noting her obvious glare, but laughs it off, ultimately ignoring it, “ You tend to get sticky and sweaty when stuff like exercise happens, it is what it is..” 

“ You do realize we all have to get in the same car as you, right? If you’re gonna be smelling like that, we’re gonna need to make our next stop fast. Preferably, a place with a shower.” 

“Does that include new clothes too?” Mary pipes up, “Cause I could definitely use a change.” 

“ I think we all could,” Remy laughs, “We’re all starting to stink.” He rubs the back of his neck, the red hot feeling of prick pins and needles in Nadiya’s glare burning a hole in his head “Uh, no offense...” 

Nadiya purses her lips and crosses her arms. “ Either of you have new clothes money?” 

They both look at each other and then look back at her flatly, it’s enough of a reaction for Nadiya to roll her eyes, mutter something under the coast of her breath and shake her head. 

“Of course.” She says, then pulls something out from the under the table and places it firmly in front of them. It’s a small leather bag, with a single pouch in the front, an ash baked latch hung from its mouth. Remy feels his brows furrow, can see Mary shiftily doing the same. 

They watch Nadiya, unlatched the front pouch, pulling out what looks to be about ten dollars and couple more crumbled bills onto the table. She spreads them out once every piece of money is dumped, along with some coins that toppled against the wood, chirping and rolling beneath and atop the stack they have. 

Together they have fifty dollars and forty-two cents. 

“ This is all we have right now.” Nadiya states, flickering her gaze over the two of them, and Mary snorts, lips curving up quietly. 

“ Uh I don’t know about you, but fifty bucks is a pretty good stash.” 

“ Keep in mind this is also money for food, along with gas, which we all know those prices vary across the states.” Nadiya gestures with a wild hand, then mutters bitterly—“Fucking taxes..” 

“ Maybe we can cut out the clothes part and stick with the food until later?” Remy offers, and Nadiya laughs despite herself. 

“ Oh no, we’re not skipping out on clothes shopping.” Mary picks at her clothes. She makes a face and sticks her tongue out. “I’m not spending another week in dried up mud and bloody sweats.” 

Remy sniffs at his own-- can smell the sweat, blood, and lingering scent of smoke and wet earth on his skin. 

Yeah he doesn’t think he can handle another week either. 

“You know any goodwills around here?” 

Mary shakes her head, “Nope, I don’t live here.” 

“Then I guess we’re stuck with the clothes we have, for now at least.” Nadiya sighs, pushing backwards in her seat. “God, and what are we gonna do when this money runs out later on? Because it will run out…” 

”We get more.” 

”How?” 

“By using an ATM.” Mary says, like it was the obvious answer, but the other two look over at her with confusion stretched in the wrinkles of their brows, and when it looks as though Nadiya’s about to say something, Mary finishes. “I can snag us some money from it, seeing as I’m the one with technokinesis, it only seems fair that I use it to grab us a few bucks. We find an ATM, you let me at it, and bam! We’ve got free cash.” 

Remy frowns, ”Uh, isn’t that stealing?” 

She gives him a flat look. “ It’s taxpayer’s money, and frankly there’s nothing the government can really do, nor can they prove that I stole it, and it’s better than using a card or something that’s trackable. If we need the cash so bad, we can just get it, it’s no big deal.” 

“That’s not how any of that works..” Remy says, but Nadiya lifts her head up, cheek pressed into her palm, “ I have no qualms with it.” 

“ What!” Remy looks over to her, and she shrugs, “ What? She’s right, and what else are we supposed to do when the money’s out? Sit around and hope for the best?” 

”You guys are such bad influences.” 

Mary shrugs, “ We’re wanted fugitives at this point. I think we’re allowed to do whatever so long as we’re not caught.” she says, with a hell of a lot of fake nonchalance, and Nadiya nods stiffly, across from her. 

Remy sighs again, sets his head down on the hard pine-wood of the table, suddenly tired. “ I still think it’s bad though…” 

”Little man!” 

His ears prick up at the sound of Kardala’s heavy footsteps, lifting his head up and looking over his shoulder to see the goddess making her way towards the table. 

At the sight of her, he puts on a smile, lifting a hand to wave, when he stops and notices something wiggling around in her arms. 

“I have found a friend!” She beams, and holds out her arms to show off the particularly big rat like creature held tightly in her grasp. It wiggles and squirms around against the bridge of her forearms, tail swishing rapidly as it moves, and when she brings it up at eye level to her own, it squeaks out an irate cry, loud and galling. 

Remy blinks out of his stupor, incredulous at the sight of it, he tries opening his mouth to say something before someone shifts violently away from the table beside him. “ Whu--“ 

“ KARDALA, WHAT THE HELL?!” Nadiya shrieks, scrambling out of her seat with her hands out in front of her as if worried the creature would jump out of the goddess's arms and attack. 

“ Is that a muskrat?” Mary sits up in her seat, eyeing it with delighted curiosity. “ Aw, that’s so cool, where did you find him?” 

“ Is that what it is called? A musk-rat?” Kardala, pulls it up in front of her, studying it carefully. “I am unfamiliar with the name, however that one surely fits it well as it is rather musky. I found him out by the lake when I went for a run, rutting around a finely made hole that it made in the ground. It was such a wonder and so big that I had to have a closer look at it.” 

Nadiya pulls backwards, taking a step each time Kardala made a step forward. “ Oh my god, Kardala, put that thing down, right now..” 

“What, are you scared of it?” Remy teases behind a toothy grin, watching her back up some. 

“ I don’t mess with animals.” she says, plainly making a point to put in distance between herself and the giant rat, and Mary who stands up to lean over to get a closer look at the animal that now squirms its way onto the table, its claws digging into the wood. “Especially wild ones...” 

Kardala laughs, “ Ha! So the demon is afraid of something.” The muskrat tries to move from out her hands, scrambling successfully. Before she comes to hold it carefully back in place at her side, patting its matted mud-clumped fur as she grins. 

“ Worry not for I have tamed this animal! It will be seen as an accomplishment to me, the mighty Kardala, who wrung it from its watery home and challenged it after watching it thrash with another creature moments before I had arrived. It is quite the formidable fighter and I believe it would be wise to bring it along with us, as a worthy pet under my guidance.” 

“No, no, no, no…” Nadiya starts, shutting her eyes real tight.” We’re not doing this, absolutely not, no fucking way..” 

“ But I have tamed the beast!” 

“ You’re not bringing a goddamned muskrat into our car!” 

“I don’t see why we can’t, the car smells bad enough already...” Mary starts, but the seriousness in her voice is gone, humor rolling under her tongue. 

“ Shut up Sage!” 

“ I agree with the Sage woman, Kardala should be allowed to—” 

“The answer is NO!” 

They have a fight about it which lasts a good twenty minutes, eventually settling on having the muskrat be placed somewhere safe in the wilderness as they all come down from it, more tired than they had been before, but still lively in the absence of it. Even letting Kardala have the chance to name it before they let it go. 

And as Remy looks to these three people, sees them at their highest of highs, no grief, no pain, no fear. 

He thinks, maybe here is where things can work out for the better.   

* * *

They watch a helicopter fly by, its blades noisily slicing through the air. Giant, intimidating, and terrifying. 

It leaves a cold feeling in Remy’s gut, hard like stone, but not jagged enough to cut through his thoughts. He has to pinch himself twice just to reassure himself that it’s nothing. 

Kardala stands by, surprisingly not yelling or making an effort to announce its presence. Her eyes carefully following the copter’s pattern as it goes. “ Has trouble come and found us again?” 

Nadiya squints at it. “ I don’t think so.” 

“ How are you so sure?” 

“Because if they were, someone from up there would have spotted us, and I don’t think they’d just send in one copter. It would be a little ridiculous and kinda insulting.” 

They continue to watch it glide by, the propellers spinning against the pale blue, until it becomes nothing but a speck in the heat of the sun. 

After a moment, Nadiya sighs.“ Besides, there’s nothing to worry about anymore. They’re probably not looking for us.” 

Kardala laughs, short and riotous. “Cowards they are to stop looking then.” 

Out of the corner of Remy’s eyes, he can see Nadiya start to stand from where she was leaning on the wall, walking away. 

He hopes to a god somewhere that she isn’t wrong about that.   

* * *

“ Where exactly are we going anyway?” Remy asks carefully, searching the pillars of corn and empty fields zipping by them in blurs of green and gold. 

Nadiya glances to over the left of her. “ What do you mean?” 

Remy turns away, fully leaning back in his seat, his fingers gently tap the dash. “ I mean, do you know where we’re going?” 

Her eyes do a swift action of widening slightly before they lid, and she sits silent for a moment. “ We’re heading towards a rest stop soon.” 

It’s not the answer he’s expecting, not the kind of answer he’d want at least. But he hasn’t really gotten around to asking outright anyways. He knows she hates these kind of questions, they always leave her with a pause, empty handed and loosely grabbing for an idea that should have already been plotted together by now. 

They've asked maybe a couple of times before, back in Virginia and somewhere along the road. But she always flung it off with a hand wave and a work of irritation in her voice. He knows she hates these questions, even still, but he can't help but asked them anyways, especially when they've been running for what feels like a millenium now. 

Maybe it’s the scare of not knowing where to run to, or the thoughts of having nowhere to run if they tried, but after having just battled off a cult of pseudo revolutionists and government muscle, Remy thinks they deserve a little break from the unordinary for a while. 

It’s been days--weeks even, they should have something. She should have something. 

“A rest stop.” He says, flatly, “And then what?” 

“And then..” She pauses, momentarily distracted. “ And then we head farther south, to a place safe and highly secluded from prying eyes and ears for a long time. A place that’s small, and closed off..” 

The answer she offered is vague and vacillates with doubt behind it. Which doesn’t bite well with him, but he isn’t one to probe her for expansions on it. Nadiya is usually the more calculated one, the one with all the smart decisions and intellectual value, she always has a plan. 

Point is, she always has something, so it’s odd to someone like Remy, to hear in her voice for what he feels is the first time, a sense of distrust in her answer. 

The confusion on his face must still be present somewhere in his expression, because Nadiya rolls her eyes and sucks on her teeth. “ I mean, my place, we’re going to my place.” she says, flexes her fingers over the ring of the wheel. 

“Oh.” 

“Why, were you expecting somewhere different?” 

Remy shrugs, won’t meet her eyes. “ I dunno, just asking.” 

She makes a noncommittal hum, and they are quiet for a moment. 

The buzzing howl of the engine breathes deep between the space of them, pulling them out of the moment and Nadiya keeps her eyes hard on the road, fingers tapping against the wheel. 

“ I promise.” she says, after a while. “ That when we get to this place, once we reach this destination, we won’t have to keep running like this anymore.” 

Remy turns. “ And where is this place?” 

“Atlanta. I’ve had this place--uh, have, this one lab somewhere close there. It’s a secondary apartment I owned well back when I was teaching undergrads in a college nearby. A fairly large one, but I didn’t like the accommodations they gave me with the school, so I decided to buy my own place.” 

At the mention of the city, his whole body stiffens, cutting off his next words for a moment. That city is more or less—close to home, where his family is, and just hearing that makes his mouth twists up eagerly at something he shouldn’t be thinking about right now. 

Maybe he could arrange for something to happen, or offer a better solution. It’s a stretch, and he knows bringing it up with Nadiya will probably lead into an argument, but he can’t help but think of them. He’s been thinking about a lot of things, and the phone in his pocket sits like a hole in his jeans, burning through, hot against the dip of his palm. 

He could say something. 

But instead of suggesting the obvious, he goes for the more safer route. 

“ How long ago was that?” 

“ Fairly a couple years back.” 

He’s surprised by it, a curious brow inching upward. “ You live there long?” 

She shakes her head. “ Nah, I never lived there long, it was just for the school. Besides, the only reason I worked at that school, was because of my dad.” She laughs, sea-salt bitter. “ He uh, encouraged me into it.” 

He hums at that, nodding. Outside the sun is setting, blood red spilled in swirls of gold and pink, chased off by the clouds into the dim-lit trees branching out on either side of the road.“ I take it the city wasn’t the place for you then.” 

She laughs again, still rock-salt bitter, “ No way, I hated it. It was too hot, it rained too often, the humidity was enough to have me sweating buckets, it was gross and crowded, and the college was lousy at best. Not my favorite.” 

“ Sounds like Atlanta.” 

They sit back in silence for a while, an hour passing before they reach their next stop. 

The road groaning guttural underneath the weight of the tires as they continue down the winding road.   

* * *

“ You seem excited.” Nadiya says, much later when they make a stop at a Seven Eleven. Remy glances up from his seat. 

“ What do you mean?” 

Nadiya shrugs. “ Nothing it’s just, when I brought up the fact that we were stopping somewhere near Atlanta, you seemed happy about it.” She looks down on him, glasses glinting with the glow of the fuzzy fluorescent light above them. “ Is there someone that you’re trying to see? Friends maybe?” 

He looks puzzled at first, blinks, then realizes what she’s trying to get at. He shakes his head, no there aren’t any friends waiting for him at home. 

He finds the question funny—for just moment, because when Remy thinks of friends, he thinks of them—Nadiya, Irene, Kardala, and Mary. The four people he’s been running around with for a good couple of weeks. Friends like that, don’t exist anywhere he's from. He doesn’t even think he has anyone to really call that back home. 

His friends, the only real ones he can actually call that are here, right with him, and the only things waiting for him at home is his brother and his nephew. People who probably couldn’t even fathom the kind of hell these past few weeks have wrought onto them. 

And he can’t really imagine having to explain all of what he’s been through, can’t wrap his head around the thoughts of explaining the broadcast, and his powers, and these people here sitting all around him. It’s all a little too much to really put the thoughts together and say out loud. To his brother, he would have thought it all ridiculous, and honestly Remy wouldn’t blame him. 

“ Nah,” he says finally, “I don’t have much friends back home.” 

Nadiya hums at that. “ I expected as much.” 

He knows there’s a lot else that she wants to say to him, she usually does have a quip or two at the ready just to tear into anything that could be deemed as insulting towards him and his character. Nadiya always has a way of getting under his skin even if he doesn’t have a word to fight back with. 

He’s almost thankful when she doesn’t and looks away. His leg bouncing against the asphalt, rolling his shoulders and starts to lean backwards into his seat, licking hot dog grease off his fingers. 

He gets about halfway through falling back into his seat, before he pulls back upward and sits up straight. Thinking for a moment before he looks up at Nadiya and— 

“ Hey Nadiya..” 

If she acknowledges his need for her attention, she doesn’t announce it, standing in front of him with her arms crossed. 

Remy breathes deep through his nose, exhaling his stress, a hand comes to collect at the nape of his neck, scratching nervously. It’s a now or never situation, he thinks, he could bring up what he wants to say, what he’s really feeling. The thoughts of knowing where they’re going to go and what can be done while they’re there has him rerouting his choices. 

He could go back home and stay with his family, end this chapter of his life and continue what he does best with his brother again. He won’t have to worry about anything else, and given the fact that the government hasn’t found them yet, and the fellowship business is a cold smoke-grey memory in his head, he thinks coming home won’t be too much an issue. 

But he knows there could be complications, the goals of the others, he doesn’t know what it is they’re going after, or what they plan to do with themselves. It would be a bit selfish to want to go back without bringing it up at least, they should be told about it before he does anything else. Maybe he can even get them to come along, who knows. But he breathes in deep and tries to hold his gaze with Nadiya, give himself a minute to put his words together in his head before he continues. 

And the words just, don’t come out. 

They slide and stick to his tongue, biting numb like barbed wire, and he struggles with letting the words come together. He feels his head scream at him, trying to pressure the syllables out easy and precise, but what he wants to say and what he tries to say just don’t connect at all and he gives up halfway through. 

“I..” He mouths out, then stops and closes it, shuts his eyes real tight. “ Never-mind. It’s nothing.” 

She raises a brow, a spark of confusion enters her expression for just a second, gone before he blinks. “Okay…?” 

“ Yeah, it’s nothing.” He repeats it, tries to repeat it in his head for good measure. It’s a stupid idea anyway. “ Sorry, it, my mind was just blanking there for a second. Thought I had a question, but it slip by me in a flash..” 

He rubs the back of his neck, instead of words like family, and words like can I see them, and things like will you even let me, an easy, startled laugh comes out, staring down at the gas streaked street below his feet. 

Nadiya’s mounted neutral expression never wavers, eyeing the taller man from head to toe. He can’t tell what’s she’s thinking, can’t meet her eyes, refuses to. She sighs and unfolds her arms off her chest. 

“ Whatever,” she says finally, and when he lifts his head up to look back at her, she’s looking somewhere else over her shoulder. “If it were important you’d remember it, so whatever it was, probably wasn’t much right?” 

Right, he wants to say, thinks, probably.   

* * *

When they’re off the road again, tired and hanging on to the seats with their backs turned and blanketed, Remy asks. 

“ Do you think, we’ll have normal lives after this?” 

Nadiya shakes her head, sighing deeply under the covers. “I don’t know.” 

“ What does that mean?” 

“ It means I’m not awake to know or care at the moment to answer that.” 

Remy nods, looking out the window at the shadow stalk of trees outside, the Carolina highway races above them, cars blurring by. 

Okay. Later then, he thinks, he’ll probably have more time to think about it. For now, they could sleep this off and he can hang on to the questions later. 

That’ll be a conversation well saved for another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was long and I had like so many different ways for this to go down, but here's the finished version and though Im still not satisfied with this length, im proud to say that I got it down and out the way so that's something.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staying at a motel after a bad scuffle, Remy finally opens up with what he's been wanting to say, and they decide for themselves where to go from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, again, I made some changes here and in the other chapter, and I'm posting this at ass-o-clock now, bc I finally got around to editing this. 
> 
> I have a pretty concise idea of where this story is going, but the buildup is gonna be slow cause I'm that kind of person. And these two arcs are gonna be fairly long before we get into the meat of this huge pre-planned plot. Things might change as we go but I'm glad to be writing again.
> 
> also fair warnings for mentions of scars, and guns, and medical stuff.

They actually get a motel room for the night. 

It’s a ratty old unimpressive looking building that’s rotting from out its sharp saw-cut edges and several of its bricks splinter outward like exposed bones from the cement. Mouldering guardrails line its stairs and flinty lamp lights flicker every other minute. Dusty windows that look as old as time, and its paint chips around the corners, the colors dull and evanescent, peeling away from the rotting wood. 

The room they find, doesn’t look any better, there’s a musty kinda smell in the air that hits them like a cloudburst of mold and cigarette ash the moment they set foot into the living space. The bed’s a sprawl of cluttered sheets and unrecognizable stains to the carpets make them think not to take their shoes off at all while they’re in this place. It has two beds, comfy for them to share, and as they look at the relic of the TV set and the stained 70s-esque wallpaper that peels away from the walls, they find this place to be truly stuck in time. 

The sheets here don’t look as clean, and it’s probably got bed bugs—maybe, but Remy’s sick of lying cooped up in the tight air-dry space that is the car and he’s pretty sure the others are too. 

Plus he could really—REALLY use a shower, and the others he thinks, deserve a night’s rest in an actual bed. Especially Mary, after the stunt she pulled back a couple of towns away. 

Remy pushes the car door close as he pulls the blanket they snagged from a shop they came across a couple days ago, out from the back seat, catching his face in the black reflection of the glass. 

He looks terrible. Nights gone sleepless and alert have left him enervated. His eyes sunken deep, black moons have dusted beneath his eyes, hanging low, visibly filling in the hollows. He’s skinnier now with the shortening of funds that limit his intake of food, and his roots have grown out steadily from the trimmed edges of his haircut, unruly and ragged— he looks and feels like utter shit. 

His shoulders sag as he heaves the blanket over his shoulder and begins the walk back to the building. On his way up the stairs, he spies Kardala leaning over the railing, her eyes focused on the sky. She looks at peace that way, a quiet and content look dawning over her face, slouching posture and a casual line of calm in her shoulders. 

She does not say anything or come to greet the other until Remy is about a few feet away from her, making for the door, but doesn’t go in. He stops just as his hand makes for the handle, hesitant, before turning and addressing the taller goddess. 

“So, are you gonna come back inside?” He starts, staring up at the back of Kardala’s imposing figure as she turns. “ Come in and chill for a bit or…?” 

“Are you in need of my assistance?” 

He pauses, momentarily confused. “ Uh...no. No I don’t think so.” 

“Then Kardala will stay out here for a bit.” Her voice is soft and scraping against the noise of the empty street and buzzy flickering lights. 

It is a voice Remy normally would not hear from her, as she’s the more louder of the group, thundering and concussive. He’s almost surprised by the softness. “It has been some time since I have watched the stars at night and to be out surrounded by the husk of nature is a pleasing sentiment I tend to not indulge in very much.” 

“ Oh.” He glances to the side of him, at the five hollow doors that neighbor their temporary home. The blanket on his shoulder slumps off some as he shifts, silence crawling in. 

“None to worry though,” Kardala says, and her eyes level with his as she smiles. “ Kardala will come in soon. I won’t be out here for long, it is just…” She pauses, eyes turning to the empty street again. “ I would like a little time to myself. It has been a long ride and I could use the time to clear my thoughts if you don’t mind.” 

“No, no it’s okay.” Remy startles, holding a hand up. “ I understand what you mean, I—Sometimes I do that too. When I go off on one of my runs, that’s usually something that helps me clear my mind too. You’re not alone in that, it’s fine. I’ll leave you to it.” 

A smile settles easy on her face, soft and relaxed. “Thank you.” 

Remy nods, feeling his hand consciously turn the knob of the door, his back pressing to the frame panel, cold air sneaks its way up the root of his spine. “Just be sure to come in soon.” 

He doesn’t see it, but Kardala makes a nod back, humming under her breath, their backs turn away from each other as Remy presses on to the inside of the motel room. 

The musty air of the room hits him as soon as he walks in, scrunching up his nose and breathing through his mouth. They always seem to have a habit of finding the worst places to sleep in. Always a shitty run down motel on some back alley road that most folks native to the land and privy to its roads if asked, would probably tell them to stay away from. 

But they can’t deny it’s better than the car, and they don’t have the luxury of asking for recommendations, or for looking for better places, not when they’re on the run, and not when there’s probably a price on their heads. 

Well, maybe that last one was an over exaggeration and, probably not true. But Remy has seen the news and he’s heard the radio think pieces on all this “broadcast” nonsense, and all the crazy ass theories that have sprung up and spurned a buzz amongst the media bracket for well over weeks now, and he finds that he’s not surprised by any of it. 

If anything, the one thing he is surprised by is how long this has been going on for. This running thing—whatever it is that they’re doing. 

He doesn’t really know how long they can keep this up. 

As he comes in, he finds Nadiya sitting up on her side of the bed toying with something in her hand as Mary lies beside her soundlessly. An arm stretched out in front of her as Nadiya holds it carefully in her other, squeezing her forearm like an avocado—testing for ripeness. 

Mary from where Remy can see, looks to be asleep or making her way towards it. It’s hard to see with the only light in the room being by his bedside, the dark masking over the hills of her face like shadows on sand and Remy for a moment, feels a conscious sort of discomfort knot its fist somewhere in his gut. Looking at the faded scars that paint around her wrist and exposed skin by her waist. 

Instead of looking on any further into what the two are doing, he turns his eyes away and sets the blanket down on the ratty old chair by his bed, eyeing the TV that trills on about a game show he’s seen maybe once or twice before. Bright colors of red and purple dancing over a crowd of people as the contestants swarm the stage, dancing along to a hyperactive beat, manic and invigorated looks on each of their faces. 

Eventually after a minute of watching Jamie Foxx dance across the stage and greet each contestant with a hand shake , speaking animatedly about the game’s mechanics— Nadiya finally looks up. 

With her hand moved out of the way, Remy can eye the woefully understocked first aid kit they bought a week ago, sitting by her knee, laying some of the bandages out on Mary’s wrist. She spends a minute wrapping them, consciously being aware of how fast she’s going and how much pressure she’s putting on the scars. 

Then when finished, clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, looking deep in thought about something. Concern masked by ingenuity with a little pinch in her eyebrows, and it’s the kind of look that reminds Remy of how his brother got when he was working on something important or confronting the stack of bills they’d get each week. A serious yet familiar sort of look that makes something mawkishly throe, seize up in his chest, as hot and brief as a road flare. 

It’s gone before he even has a chance to decipher its meaning, blinking away uneased sentiments in his thoughts, before linking his eyes with Nadiya’s as she looks over at him finally. 

Nadiya quirks a brow up, expectant. “ So?” 

“I asked her if she wanted to come in and she told me that she wanted to spend a little more time by herself. Clear her thoughts and chill out for a little bit.” 

“And she can’t do that in here?” 

“ She’s been cooped up inside a car for over five hours Nadiya. Catching a little fresh air out on the balcony of the motel isn’t gonna get her in trouble.” Remy sits up from where he was lounging out on his bed, his legs stretched out in front of him as he flips over and stares at Nadiya. “ I’m sure she’ll be fine and it’s not like it’s gonna be for long, plus she has the perfect front row seat to watch the stars.” 

The folds of Nadiya’s eyes come to lower as she pulls a slightly irritated look, but shakes her head and sighs.” Whatever.” 

Remy stays quiet, there’s a long pause in the room for a moment. The only noise being the sound of the game show on the grainy CRT set. A woman shrieks with glee as the crowd follows in her success as she gets an answer right on the bright LED board that glitters with animated vigor. The crowd’s excited noise swallowing up its victory fare. 

Remy eyes Mary’s stock-still form, feels a wet sorta slick guilt crawl up his throat. 

“How’s she doing?” 

Nadiya looks down, that pinch in her eyebrows coming back. “Well, she’s getting better. She’s a little lucid and her breathing so far as leveled so that’s good. Though I don’t know what to do if this keeps up.” 

Remy remembers, in the blue-green haze of the night, what had all transpired for this to happen. 

They lingered too long in a small town with a name that’s forgettable on the tongue. In a county that’s deserted as the backroads they take to at midnight. 

Somewhere between the long backwater road and the fluorescent blurry lights of the gas station’s pollution blue bulbs, four very scared individuals driven on no sleep, no food, and poor decision making, screwed things up fantastically. 

The gas station they stopped at, had been for a small break. A hazy small insignificant thing—he doesn’t quite recall much, but Remy remembers there being a period of time where he could have sworn the cashier was suspicious of something, and for the briefest of moments, a pillar of fear lit up his core like a firecracker when he felt their eyes following them through the store. 

The cashier had a shotgun, had pulled it on Kardala when she went for the rows of meat he had heated in a machine by the counter. Remy can still remember the thundering rattle of the first warning shot when it thudded through his ears, watched it hit the side of the goddess’s arm— 

Can still feel the adrenaline—sick buzz of white noise fill his ears like bad cable, a knot burning hot in the hollows of his throat — 

Can still remember running, and shouting, and driving and sirens…. 

Nadiya looks back down at Mary, and there’s this sad stern look in her eyes, softened by the glow of the TV’s warm colors. She sits there for a moment, staring black figures into the space between the floor and Mary before moving to get off the bed, first aid kit forgotten for the remote. She mumbles something under her breath—what the hell is this show?, and surfs the channels for something different, or whatever suits her tastes. 

Remy says nothing, doesn’t mind the sudden change, and doesn’t mind the seed of silence between them now. He’s grown so used to it— even on long car rides, dozing off in the passenger seat, watching the fields fly by in blurs of pale yellow and ashen grey. Kardala behind them pointing out things of interest and Mary toying slyly with the radio, and there’s Nadiya, a shaky creaky thing in the driver side, face held forward and hands fisted white knuckled around the wheel… 

It’s not an easy kind of thing, but he hasn’t complain about it. If he wants a conversation, he has Mary and Kardala to turn to, Nadiya doesn’t have to give up her space—her time for him. 

She’s always been that way, always so inadvertently cruel, always such the serious individualist, always so above and about herself. Never having the time to slow down and stop for others. A busybody at her hardest—but a considerate lone wolf at her most inconvenient. 

For a moment, he thinks about it—the conversation they didn’t finish, as they come back down on their side of the bed. The thundering footfalls of Kardala roam back into the room just as Nadiya settles for some tacky infomercial about a fancy vacuum, but changes it at the last second to some soap opera. Two older women sharing a moment in the comfort of their own home, speaking low in whispers of spanish, cradled on a couch by a fire. 

“ We can’t keep making quick stops like this.” Nadiya says, out of the blue, startling Remy out of his thoughts. He sees Kardala shift in the chair beside his bed, hears every creak and groan as it takes in her weight. 

Nadiya’s voice hangs so low beneath the thrums of the TV’s noise, Remy has to strain just to hear it. A murmur on the wind that blows from a fan nearby on low speed. “ This hotel hopping-car sleeping thing , all of this, it’s getting to be annoying now, and we’re so close to our destination. Stopping anymore would be detrimental at this point.” 

Remy flickers his gaze from the screen, looking between Mary and Nadiya a few times. “ So I take it no more midnight trips for good Dew juice at the seven eleven.” 

Nadiya scoffs, “As if you need anymore of that gross shit.” 

“ Hey Mountain Dew is the drink of gods.” Remy objects, “And I won’t have you disrespecting it.” 

“ I agree with that statement.” Kardala says, louder than the two, a toothy grin gleaming in the motel’s lamp light like clear gloss. “ It certainly is worthy of it.” 

“ Okay one, inside voice Kardala.” Nadiya points, with the remote in hand lowering stiffly as example, then glares. “ And two, no it definitely is not, and the fact that he has you agreeing with that is bad in and of itself.” 

Remy just shrugs. There’s a crinkle that forms at the ends of Nadiya’s eyes. Despite the unimpressed look on her face, he knows somewhere within it she finds humor in it, so he can gladly sit back and call it a victory. “Say what you will about it Nadiya, I know you know I’m right.” 

Whatever she wants to say is muddled by the quiet laughter of Kardala, who leans further back into the chair, further comforting herself. So instead, she says nothing, opting to observe the scene on the TV. In it, the couple is laughing about something Remy can’t hear with the volume this low, a cheery smile lifted to the face of one of the women. 

When the silence comes back, and the twinge of jokey nature starts to leave the three of them. Remy asks a different question. 

“So how much further is it?” 

“ I honestly have no clue.” Nadiya admits, “I haven’t been checking the maps, and after that whole shop fiasco, I’m pretty sure we’ve just lost a good chunk of our original trail.” 

He lifts his head up,“ So we’re basically lost.” 

“ Hypothetically.” Nadiya says, with a shrug, “But until we get a good look at the map, I’d like to say this is a detour.” 

Okay, not the kinda news he wants to hear right now, but so far their plans have been made with almost next to no basic coordination. He doesn’t expect that to change, but hearing the uncertainty pooling in her words does nothing to dispel his worry. 

It’s like that conversation they had in the car where it started, even now as invisible as it sounds, Remy can still hear the echoes of it. There’s another lull of silence, then Remy pulls back, shoulders sagging into the weight of pillows and sheets beneath him, sighing out deeply. “ God I’m tired.” 

“ Then take a nap Jump-boy.” Nadiya says, without missing a beat. “ We’re not going anywhere.” 

“ Kinda hard to do that when you’re worried about someone.” 

Nadiya pauses, then turns, visible puzzlement clear in her voice. “ Who?” 

Remy raises his eyebrows in a way that says “Really?”, before flickering his gaze towards Mary—then a nodding motion. 

Nadiya meets his gaze halfway, looking down but returns the look.“Mary will be fine. Her wounds aren’t that bad compared to the rest of us, and if push comes to shove, we can help her the rest of the way. It’s not complicated.” 

“ The Sage woman is quite a formidable person, little man.” Kardala says, as Remy turns on his side to eye her nodding her head. “ I doubt that fight took her out, you shouldn’t be so worried. She did well for it, and in time she will heal from it as we all will.” 

“ A fight you started…” Nadiya grits. 

Kardala frowns, eyebrows knitted together. “ It was not me who brought the challenge, it was the other man. He brandished his weapon at me!” 

“ That didn’t mean you had to throw him.” 

“ His metal pellet hit my arm, it was a matter of self defense. What was I to do? Allow it to happen?” 

“ We could have just ran, it would have been safer, you know we have to be careful out here.” 

“ Okay! Okay!” Remy cuts in, putting his hands up, momentarily halting their quarrel. “Let’s not, let’s not do this here okay?” 

Nadiya grinds her jaw, looks away, from the volume of the TV, a couple starts arguing furiously in spanish. 

“ Can we just—” Remy starts, flicking his tongue over his lips once, suddenly feeling parched and his words feel rough and rock-salt dry. “ Can we just talk about something else, please? I kinda don’t wanna think about—that right now, and I don’t think any of you actually do so, please, can we just… Can we just like talk about what we’re gonna do now? Or is that off the table?” 

Nadiya narrows her eyes, but feels something like defeat run off her shoulders—hating the feeling but opts to ignore it. She takes a deep breath before turning towards the two of them again. “ Well, what about our decision?” 

The two others in the room, look confused for a moment, Remy furrowing his brows, while Kardala simply tilts her head, not understanding the vague statement. 

“ The one we had in the car on our way through NC?” Nadiya reminds them, vaguely gesturing with her hands. “ You know, the whole where we’re going thing?” It takes Remy half a second to understand. 

He jolts upward, “ The, oh! Oh yeah…” he says, dragging the word. “The conversation in the car to, we were going through North Carolina, and I asked you something and—” 

“ Yeah that one. Are we still on board with it?” 

There’s a long pause between them, for a while, the only noise is the TV’s soap opera filtering in through the room. Kardala watches it intently. Another beat passes, then Remy lifts his head up. “Yeah um about that.” he says, “ Why your place?” 

Nadiya actually pivots at the question, blinking. “ Uh, because it’s safe?” 

“I know that.” Remy waves offhanded, and sits up straight on his bed, legs coming up criss-cross. “ But like why specifically?” 

Nadiya narrows her eyes, “ What do you mean why specifically? It’s the one place I know we’ll be safe at one hundred percent. We should be thinking about sticking together, at least until we’re sure it’s safer, not to say that it wasn’t before but, after…well, that, I’m...” 

She stops herself, never allowing the sentence to finish, they both know what she means. Remy’s posture shrinks, growing with thinly veiled anxiety at the denotation. And there is a moment where she expects him to find words to say, to retort something , maybe— 

But, Remy is quiet for a moment, watching the scene on the TV as some woman begins to sob dramatically on the screen. His eyes soft but distant, his mouth parted, and the look would have been deceiving to someone who didn’t know him but— (and Nadiya finds it laughable that she acts like she knows any of these people, these strangers turned partners-in-crime in her runaway plan from bad power-hungry cultists.) they live in each other’s pockets these days. She’s seen that look before, and she knows it, and she knows Remy only ever gets this quiet when he’s thinking. 

And if he’s thinking about something, that means he has something to say. 

Which means there’s something he’s not telling her. 

Nadiya is silent when she gets up, eyeing the man down from her full height as she comes to step in front of him now, arms crossed. Pointed suspicion acts like a hook in her gaze, fishing for something she can’t see in the visibly written lines of his face. 

It takes him a moment to notice, looking up. “ What?” 

“ Why are you so worried about where we’re going all of a sudden? You were a-okay with it then, when we talked about it in the car back in NC, now you’re suddenly against it?” 

His eyes grow big at the accusation, shaking his head. “I never said I was against it.” 

“ Then what are you suddenly against?” 

She watches him flicker his eyes to the ground, search for something that’s not there; there’s a twitch in his leg he only ever gets when he’s nervous. A tic, she’s seen in action on long car rides when they’ve been on the road too long and he hasn’t gotten a break to run or stretch his legs. 

“ There’s something you’re not telling me.” 

Remy swallows. “ I don’t know what you mean.” 

“ No, there is something you’re not telling me. “ Nadiya says, and her eyes narrow, sizing him up critically. “Spill it. What do you have to say about it?” 

She watches him lean forward on the bed, shoulders stiff and squared. “ I dunno.. I don’t really have a—” 

“ Remy.” 

He half sighs, shoulders now sagging. Behind him, Kardala laughs at something on the TV screen. “ Okay, but don’t freak out alright, I was gonna tell you.” 

He starts to dig in his pockets, carefully feeling for what he knows is the phone, burning animal-warm against his sweaty palm as he grasps it. It takes him a few seconds to work out a nerve in his gut, biting his bottom lip before finally pulling it out and showing it to Nadiya. 

“ A while back while we were in NC, back at the park, after I did my run, I almost called my brother.” 

If he looks up at all, he would have seen her gaze falter, just only slightly, but only silence greets his words. Permission he thinks, though he doesn’t know why he would need it to continue, and so he does. 

“I actually think I pressed the button a few times or tried to at least, but I just couldn’t.. I was so afraid of what would might happen if he picked up and every time my finger slipped over the call button, I backed myself out it. I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna tell him if I see him again, and it’s been on my mind ever since but…” He pauses, sighs, feeling his fingers itch. 

“ That’s kinda the reason I’ve been holding on to it, like I know I don’t actually need it and I don’t intend to call him at all— really, but I just feel like it’s the only connection I have with him right now so I don’t do anything with it “ 

He feels eyes tickling over his shoulder, feels the silence surrounding their small circle, gutless and vacant and knows with no doubt in his mind that they’re thinking. He doesn’t continue, feels like he has nothing to say now, listening to the low volumed opera on the TV and feels himself grow small, but calmer now that he has that out in the open. 

He can feel the prick pins-and-needles of Kardala’s gaze from behind him, leg bouncing at a more faster rate against the floor. A car pulls into the motel’s parking lot, its light shining through the window, dimly lit but gleaming red in Nadiya’s eyes as he looks up. 

The look is, unreadable at best. 

Remy tries to meet her eyes, pushes his hands to the space of his lap. The phone now a forgotten object on the wooden dresser. “ You still have that look on your face.” 

“ Okay great, you miss your family, understandable.” Nadiya says, too nonchalant, too orderly, it makes Remy’s teeth hurt. “Doesn’t explain why you’re having second thoughts about our arranged plan.” 

He looks to the floor, taps his feet against the scraggy hills of the carpet, counting every discolored spot in its makeshift cotton hairs. Breathes through his nose. “ Dom—my brother, lives near that city…” 

Nadiya hisses under her breath, then rubs at her temples, “ Is that what this is about…?” 

“ Now look.” Remy interjects, holding up a hand, “ I actually have a good reason for it. If you say that your lab is in the city, then we could spend a day or two at my brother’s house, you know like find rest in between.” Then his head falls, turning back to the floor, his voice a dim murmur. “ Plus it gives me a chance to see how they’re doing. We don’t have to split up just..you know.” 

Nadiya doesn’t know what to say, but she can’t say she’s completely on board with it. “ I mean I get it, but also, we’re trying to stay undercover here..” 

“ I find no problem with it.” Kardala speaks from the lit corners the room, her voice a husky whisper, so low , it’s almost blanketed by the low whirr of the fan. She picks at something on her arm, flicks it away. “ Little man’s idea sounds interesting.” 

“ We can’t just do that though.. ” 

“Why not?” 

“ We just, can’t—you don’t, it’s—”, Nadiya’s words stammer on her lips, and it’s an awful awful feeling. To not know what to say. “You don’t get it, you don’t, it’s— urgh!” She loses composure, for just a second, fingers scratching at her scalp in the way only she does when frustrated in these type of situations. These two just don’t understand. 

“You don’t get how dangerous an idea that is, like let’s used our heads here for a second, something you an IT specialist can do.” She says, and there’s something like wild—desperation in her eyes, watching as Remy’s face falls and tucks his head low between the hills of his shoulders 

“What’s the one place the feds and the fellow what’s its if they’re still kicking, would think to look for a bunch of augmented individuals who took out their entire base of operations, blew up their whole “take-over the world-plan” and bagged them off to prison? Hm?” She gives it pause, not to let them answer, their silence is all the confirmation she needs. “ Oh I know! Their homes and families? Cause you know, that’s the first place they’d look because that’s the first thing we’d think of to go!” 

She can understand his plight to go home— hell all of them do. Nothing in the world would make her happier than to leave this whole thing behind, go home, and go back to the way things were. Before all this running, before the fights, before they were ever even apart of something as big as the fellowship had made them feel. Her wants for normalcy are just as gigantic as his, like a hole in the head, waiting to be filled up. She wants nothing more than to be at home, so much so, that she wishes she had the power to close her eyes, click her dirty ballet flats together three times and fly over the rainbow. Count to three and will herself back to the place she longed for since the moment she pushed those stolen keys into the ignition and went on the run. She longs for it all back, anything to be there and not here in this rotting concrete skeleton of a lonely motel room. Really, she understands. 

But she’s also not stupid, and she’s seen the news, and she’s seen movies. They are not common people who can just slip off the radar. They have lives and titles to their names. Eventually all of this is going to catch up to them one way or another, like all things do for them. Like what almost happened at the gas station, and Mary’s sad wretched condition, and just— thinking about it, at all, makes her skin itch, uncomfortable at the thought. It makes her wanna reach for a pen to tap, a nail to chew on, makes her want to reach for an easy way out. 

Remy is quiet again, and his silence speak volumes over the static croon of the TV set, and it makes Nadiya wince —regret piling up somewhere in the back of her throat as she comes down. 

Kardala looks like she’s a millions miles away, staring ahead pass their heads, thinking— or maybe not at all, picking at the loose cotton of the chair besides her arm in a way, that to Nadiya, reminds her of Irene whenever she’d get fidgety. Her mouth forming a frown, brows knitting together. 

After what feels like an eternity, ( and Nadiya can’t tell if time around them is at a stand still or if the situation is just that brazenly uncomfortable. ) Kardala takes in this deep earthy breath, her chest heaving high, and says. 

“ You two shouldn’t be so afraid of something you know you can handle. You are worried over nothing and this talk about danger accomplishes nothing.” 

It pulls Nadiya and Remy’s heads up, staring up at the taller goddess as she starts to adjust herself from out the shitty cramped chair. Stands quickly enough to rattle it off balance and comes forward. 

“I Kardala, am not privy to the fears that you have, but I can understand your distrust and your hesitation. The world so far, is not kind to us, but that does not mean we must hide ourselves. Surely after everything that we’ve been through, threats like what those government lackeys and law-men have thrown at us have been nothing but child's play compared to things we’ve fought and won before.” 

When she comes close enough to one side of Remy’s bed, she crouches down, hair dusted off from the ceiling, now at eye level with the two of them, and her eyes glitter gold under the low light. “ I am indifferent to where we choose to go, but know that despite everything, and this minor setback here, I am more than happy to continuing doing things with the three of you. And if trouble does come for us, I know that we will have no problem getting it out of our way. For when has there ever been an obstacle we couldn’t stop.” 

Remy and Nadiya stare at her, then look at each other, stunned. 

“ I mean, she kinda has a point.” Remy shrugs, “ What with all the shit we’ve been through, it really can’t be that bad.” 

Nadiya purses her lips, considering , “ Right…” 

“ Like we fought things in Robo-Jesus land like those chubby cheeked cherubs, fought off a goliath powered by a technokinetic…” Remy sits up more, lifting a single hand up to list off their more wilder accomplishments, then scoffs as he remembers. “ Then we fought off King Dick and his weirdo gun-toting cohort and their lackeys— “ 

“That was a good one, I especially enjoyed that one.” Kardala’s toothy grin glims under the TV’s light. 

“— AND, we fought off the CIA when we tried to play good samaritans taking in the bad guys.” 

“ Technically, we didn’t fight them, we ran.” Nadiya corrects. 

“ Still it should count, we did have to like, fight some off, and didn’t Mary take out a helicopter?” 

Oh yeah, that was something that happened didn’t it? The memory of it is a bit hazy, mixed up between last week and this week and twenty days ago. Nadiya can’t recount all of it— doesn’t try to, it’s a little late in the hour to be thinking about something like that anyways. She leans back into her bed, sheets pillowing up her back, and feels the lukewarm heat of Mary nearby. 

After a moment, Remy starts to stirs again, lips tucked pink between his teeth. “ I still want to go back..” 

“ Remy…” Nadiya feels herself go tired, exhaustion huddled under the tone— but Remy ignores it. 

“I need to know if they’re okay.” He pressed forward, “ I gotta check in, you just— you gotta let me, please?” 

Nadiya squeezes her eyes shut, feeling one of her hands come up and find home with the bridge of her nose, rubbing the space between. She really wants to scream— or yell or something. Honestly there’s gotta be a better way to handle this. “ Great, you want to crash with your brother and I want to go home to my lab. How the hell are we gonna settle this?” 

“ I’ll rock-paper-scissors you for it.” 

The suggestion makes her snort— comically through her nose, scoffing. “ Are you kidding me? What are you, ten?” 

“ It’s the only thing I can think of!” Remy half-groans, rubbing at his face and neck sheepishly, then pouts and mutters. “ Plus it could be fun…” 

“ What is Rock-paper-scissors?” Kardala asks, her curiosity piqued as she looks between the two of them. 

“It’s a game, where you use your hands and shoot out three different shapes. ” Remy explains, putting his legs up, knees digging into the linen sheets as he demonstrates to Kardala the three hand shapes. “You got Rock which is a closed fist, pretty powerful against scissors, which is the other one.” He sticks two fingers out with a ‘cutting motion’, then makes a flat palm. “ And my personal favorite— paper! Which is best against rock—” 

“ But not against scissors.” Nadiya adds. 

Kardala looks delighted. “ Oh so like a challenge of wits?” Remy laughs. “ Yeah something like that.” 

Nadiya breathes out a another sign, the idea is a little tempting, and it would be good to shake off this dull ache in her stomach, letting her hands fists the sheets quietly. Her head turns to steal a glance at the clock up on the wall, minding the time, then sweeps over the TV— a commercial, some homely jingle playing while a short haired lady dances, and thinks. 

Well you know what, fuck it. What more do they have to lose. 

“Best two out of three…?” 

The words take Remy by surprise, so much so, that he sits up quick, head swiveling to stare wide eyed at Nadiya. 

It happens so fast, Nadiya half thinks to herself the poor man might have gotten whiplash in doing so, but he just looks at her, Blinks. and then a goofy sort of grin falls loftily across his face, the corner of his eyes crinkling up. “I knew you had some fun in you.” 

Nadiya puts on her best “annoyed” look and rolls her eyes. He makes it sound so endearing. Ignoring the harsh implication that she doesn’t know how to have fun. 

She jumps from her bed to the other, pushing him away to make room for herself. “ Shut it Jump-boy, I’m only doing this because I know you’ll bug me about it later.” 

Remy smiles wider and sits up straighter, Kardala following suit on the bed as it creaks with the added weight, he gives Nadiya a challenging cheeky look. “Afraid I might win?” 

Nadiya rolls her eyes, and if he notices the waggish set to her shoulders as she comes forward, he doesn’t mention it. Her eyes glitter easy-going, soft “ Please, you could never win in a million years against me.” 

“We’ll see about that.”   

* * *

They end up tying each other, after seven attempts at a recount. Mostly because Remy’s pretty sure he had Nadiya beat three-to-two, and because Nadiya’s pretty sure she won more than three ties in the last two rounds. They also find, that Kardala is an loud spectator to their game, and after the sixth match, their argument over whether or not that last two “rocks” should even count resulted in an even louder hour-long match with equally aggressive wit, waking up Mary in the process. 

The game starts to die down when they end up getting a noise complaint from a neighbor who comes banging on their doorstep two hours later.   

* * *

“Five days.” Nadiya puts up all of her fingers, the morning sun a hot gold settling above the misty clouds, light glints over her glasses, adding white glare over her eyes, standing with her stuff in one hand, car keys jangling from her Fellowship vest pocket. “ We’re staying there Five days, and then we bounce, that’s the deal.” 

Remy just nods, he’s busy packing the blanket into one of the seats of the car, then moves out of the way of his side of the car and smiles. “Cool beans, five days it is.” 

“I’m serious Remy.” she says, unconvinced that he heard her, she’s got a finger pointed up in his direction, lips pursed. “ No longer than that, it’s your place for a few days, than we hit up mine, we agreed to that so I don’t want to hear any more complaining after compiche?” 

“ Super clear, super duper clear, gotcha, no complaints.” He says, the smile never leaving his lips, he turns and gingerly takes her stuff out of her hands, putting it in the car neatly before stumbling in. 

“Good.” Nadiya doesn’t add anymore to that, stepping away from the passenger side, her hands dips into the space of her pockets, dangling the keys between her fingers. 

“ One of these days, you have got to let me drive.” Remy mutters, as she makes her way into the driver’s seat again, a moody set to his shoulders, leaning over the side passenger seat with his arms crossed underneath his head. 

“Like hell.” She snorts, getting herself comfortable for what she knows, is gonna be a long ass ride home. “ You’re about as good a driver as Kardala is, and we’ve never let her touched the wheel.” 

“Ouch!” He jokes, pushing a hand to his chest in mock-hurt at her dig. “Rude.” Nadiya only makes a face at him, and he laughs. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he spies a certain redhead drag her way down the stairs, hair out of its usual ponytail that she likes to keep it in. 

Mary looks disheveled, clothes hanging loose around the thin shape of her body, tan skin exposed patchy under the sun, and lips pulled into a lace-tight line as she clambers into the passenger side. 

Remy upon seeing her awake, smiles gently and leans forward from his seat to greet her. “ You good Mary?” 

Mary just holds her head in her hands and groans. “ Yeah I’m fine, got a killer headache though.” Her voice is creaky, almost dust-dry. 

Beside her, Nadiya sucks on her teeth, shaking her head in a way that Remy hopes, is supposed to be endearing to their friend’s plight. 

“ Well, at least you got to sleep in though, that’s something right?” he offers, trying to be helpful. They don’t have any medication for headache pain now. All he can do is mend it with kind understanding. 

Mary scoffs, blowing her hair out of her face and melts backwards into her seat. “ Barely, she says, I couldn’t sleep without all the noise going on in our room…” 

Remy chuckles, a sudden twinge of guilt pinches the back of his throat. They did get pretty loud last night. Who knew a rock-paper-scissor tournament could gets so stimulating. Well, maybe for Remy, things tend to fall in place of that category. But hey, at least he won, four-fives times, that should count for something. 

He gives Mary an apologetic look, patting her shoulder, easy, gentle. “Hey I’m sorry we woke you up. We tend to get a little carried away when we do games like that. We really didn’t mean to— 

“Don’t apologize for me, that was all you and Kardala.” Nadiya cuts in sharply. 

—”Even though Nadiya was a bit of a sore loser about it, we still tried to play nice—” 

“It ENDED in a tie! I didn’t lose and neither did you!” 

“—and things just got out of hand when Kardala decided she wanted to go at it, and really that screaming was all her—” 

“Don’t try to absolve yourself of the blame, you were just as loud!” 

—but really all that matters is we had a good time and the real lesson here, is everybody gets their plus-one, no matter what.” 

“ Great…” Mary grits out, a pinch knotting itself into the bridge of her nose as she shuts her eyes tight, rubbing her temples. “ But none of that changes the fact that you all woke me up, and the only way you guys can pay me back for it is by getting me food, juice, and painkillers.” 

“That’s fair.” Nadiya says, turning back to the wheel. “ We can find ourselves a diner or an IHOP somewhere around here before we touch road again.” 

Mary looks up and actually smiles at that. “ That sounds great.” 

Seconds later, they all hear a loud thud comes from the back seat, Kardala’s large shape making her way into a car with a hearty laugh. 

“I hope that our next stop is somewhere where there is food.” She says, her eyes ghosting across the rearview mirror with a twinkle somewhere in it Nadiya can’t decipher. 

“ Yes, please…” Mary murmurs softly around the blanket she had tucked under her chin, the fabric wrapping over her like a warm vibrant-orange cocoon. “ And coffee hopefully.” 

“ I say IHOP is as good a place to start.” Remy begins, and his rant about the world’s best pancakes and scrambled eggs is cut down swiftly as he catches Nadiya’s glare in the mirror and sinks back, smiling. “ Of course that is if Nadiya so chooses.” 

“ Thank you, Rembrandt.” No way was she letting him get away with picking where to go, she won the last few rounds, it should be her pick. With her eyes back on the road, she flexes her fingers over the steering wheel. 

“Alright, buckle in guys, it’s gonna be a bumpy ass ride.” 

She starts up the engine, and mentally prepares herself for all the routes she has spent the last few early morning hours of treading her pencil over. It’ll be a long day on the road, she estimates it being about five hours before they reach the city, but knowing the pace they go, and how often they will stop for breaks, might accumulate on to that. 

Whatever, it’s not something she isn’t used to anymore. 

She adjusts the rearview mirror, checks her sides, and pulls the car out of park and into drive, says goodbye to Nowheresville. 

“ Next stop, home.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere between the liminal spaces of the road and the wide outstretch of city-ground, Irene and Nadiya have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for scars described and mentioned. and quick flashbacks.

There’s something about this gift shop, that makes Irene feel sentimental. 

She’s not sure what exactly it is, or for what or where the weird inapposite sense of nostalgia comes from. But it’s something in the way the white to cream colored walls pull pictures out of her head. Skimming over things she’d rarely ever think about. Like cold days in the warm cover of a home, shielded under a blanket from the harsh grip of winter. A coffee in her hand, burning against her palm. Her fingers lighting up with energy, sparks jumping between her fingers, tip by tip… 

The way the scent of the room fills her up on lilac and cinnamon memories. Leading her somewhere too deep in her head to remember the places, or remember the faces. It wrenches a sort of uncommon sensation of safety out from the pools of doubt she’d had on her since coming back into herself. It acts like no question to her what these feelings could be. What these little pieces of herself could possibly mean in relation to what she feels is something truly of foreign elements. 

She has thought it over many times, and processed it carefully, and in doing so, found the conclusion to be that of something she’s always known, but chose to never process; home. She would say the feeling is. Catching on to her like a thread, wrapped on too tight around the snared together hollows of her ribcage. It makes her feels small, almost enervated; shrinking amongst the long and towering shelves around her. Like that of a small child lost in the sea of a wondrous crowd, ignorant and oblivious to her existence. 

Irene and her friends, had took one last break before the last stretch of the city crept up on them. A tidy well kept together gift shop like the ones found off the sides of streets in big pre-eminent areas. The kind that people drive a hundred and some miles of bold blacktop roads and cross crowded cities for. All of them more of less, a subunit built in the favor of some fancy popularized destination. The regular old tourist traps, as some would say. Irene remembers the ones she used to come up on back in her teen days. 

Back when her parents would take her out to an amusement park or a museum. She used to miss those days, standing outside in the balmy-temperate weather, moving about the town in her pink coat and rain-boots. This is something close to it, or rather, a small but sufficient substitute of those same places. Complete with tacky t-shirts, cotton-stuffed bears, and flashy keychains. They went in for a recharge—a bathroom break, really, but a break nonetheless. Something to replenish their stash, find something to eat, and something else Nadiya had said that needed to be taken care of. 

Irene didn’t catch any of the scientist’s words. Too much noise stirring up in her skull, too much static; her head feels like a too big air balloon by the time she awakes. Airy and fit to burst. Stumbling and unfocused, and finding herself lying alone, frontside facing the ceiling in the backseat of some untagged vehicle was, if she could be honest with herself, quite the trip. She had only just awoke moments ago, eyes blinking, slow, then blown stone-wide as if a shock of revelation had came over her. She felt her body shake—a thousand watts of electric emotion surging through her legs, her arms, her fingers. Like mercurial twists, too brash to ignore. They call at her being, tug into her spirit; trying to ease her up and at ‘em before she even has the chance to register her own face. Her own eyes. Before she even has the chance to feel like herself and know it. A thing, so intangible, almost bleak in voice and mind, spoke to her. Shrieking as if in haste to reach out, to grab, to twist her from akinesia. Hurry now, you’re losing time! Get up. Look around. Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! And by the pull of those words, she reannounced herself to the world with a dull thud to leather and a hand to her heart. 

She sat there for a moment, collecting all of what she knew and what she didn’t. And in comparing the thoughts, found that she knew less of what she did before than she did now. It was a scary thing, waking up in such in unfamiliar place and no face around to comfort her unease. But shortly after she sits up and makes her way towards the handle of the car door, it rips itself open. Pale daylight flooding from the outside and drinking in her form. A shadow stood in the space of the door, still, then reaching out and grasps her by the shoulder; warm, gentle, and she’d popped one of her eyes open to look. 

All that had greeted her then was the dark and rich umber of Remy’s eyes. The polished dark skin of his shoulder and forearm bathing in blanched lines of sunlight. They studied each other for a moment. She watches the way his mouth shapes up; curled like that of a citrus leaf in summer and throws his whole body forward. She catches him, perceptibly aware of how different he looks. There’s a new cut on his shoulder, his hair a ragged but strewn together mess that looked combed half-assed in some places. He’s wearing new clothes and there’s a distinct but fairly faint smell of Dove soap on his skin. 

They got together and talked for a moment. He tells her what he knows, and she refrains from asking too many questions. It is a lot to take in, but she manages, as best as she can. In situations like these, you have to be calm. A couple or so years in HR have taught her that. Though this however, is something entirely different from the regular pull of filing papers and organizing events on a deadline. She is not used to any of it, had never been and perhaps, never will be. But she has no reason to complain about it. At least not right now. 

So the team splits up to give everybody time to do things. Seeing an opportunity to explore a bit in peace, Irene pokes her head into the nearby shop where here, she stands and allows herself that time to think. To process on what all Remy had said to her. She stops in one aisle, walking up to the shelf to press her fingers over a texturized pattern on a quilt. Looks at the tag line and just studies it for a long while. The quilt reminds her of all the times her moms had shown her how to sew. They always had many types like these hanging about the house, on the walls, and the floors. She can recall one of her oldest blankets from when she was only a baby, still lying folded somewhere in the old room she had before she moved away. It had an intricate style to it. Old caribou-hide, four-colored; the patches sewed heavy with symbols of her family, and the stitched in image of a bear sat embroidered in the center of it. Large. Daunting. Its eye turned elsewhere and never meeting Irene’s. 

She wonders, if at all, about the kind of state her parents must be in. About how worried they must feel at this moment. Sitting at home, not knowing of what is happening to her. Of not knowing about their daughter being unknowingly wrapped up in something she hasn’t quite processed yet. Following behind two strange women and one man and knowing not when she will ever come home. Whether she will ever pick up a phone and call them. 

She imagines, in some universe where they had known, one of her mothers, the softer shorter one, sitting on the couch, blowing her nose and dotting at her face with a napkin like an 18th century woman in grief. Red puffy-eyed and blubbering whilst her wife, taller, a more moon shaped look to her face and wine-dark eyes, sits with her and holds her steady. They probably don’t know much about what’s going on with her, and frankly it was probably for the best. Thank goodness and all that. They probably most likely disregarded the broadcast, and have hopefully believed that she’s fine. Or at the very least, unaware of what truly had transpired. 

Either way, she probably has nothing to worry about. Probably. 

She rounds the corner swiftly exiting out the aisle of old knick-knacks and padded down quilts. Nearby there is a rack of t-shirts and another full slender rack of keychains. She heads for those first, pretending like she’s here to shop and not to remedy herself from the woes of homesickness. She picks out a keychain, feeling over the smooth bauble on the end of the chain in her hand. A cute yellow cartoon bird with the state university stamped on its sweater, shouts with a text bubble over its head. The words “We’re just Peachy!” is printed on it in bright bold letters. Irene actually snorts at it. A gaudy bright, ridiculous thing in her hand. 

“ Takin’ stock of our keychains there, are you?” 

She visibly jumps, the keychain almost slips through the cracks in her fingers. She hadn’t heard anyone sneak up on her. Hadn’t heard nary a sound, or a voice, or the familiar pattern of footsteps behind her. Slowly and with deliberate motion, she turns around to eye the source of the voice. A man much older, fraying light brown hair that receded past the line of his forehead, stood with a box held up and in front of his chest. A wide and generous face greeted Irene as she took one step back, eyeing him, offhandedly making notice of his name-tag that’s half-way obscured by the box in his hands. Charles. 

“ Each one is handmade. Personally designed and tailored for everyone who’s into their state pride.” 

Irene blinks, a beat. Somewhere between the time away from the fellowship and the wake-up call she had recently in the car, she forgot her own social etiquettes. 

“ Oh. That’s nice.” 

The man smiles, then adjusts the box in his hands to put it down on the floor. “ Yep. You know, the missus spent a lot of time putting most of it together.” He says, quite proudly, and puts his arms out akimbo eyeing the shelves. “ She’s the storekeep of this place. Everything you see here, is pretty much of her own design.” 

Irene tries to meet the smile, firm but faithless. Truthfully she wasn’t looking for a conversation at the moment, but she was never one to turn people away from her. There was always that sort of friendly attraction she held about her, the kind that drove people in like bees to flowers. An aspect, she’s grateful hasn’t done her in yet. Her eyes fall beyond the man’s head, eyeing a rack of 50% off snow-globes sequestered off to a corner of the shop. 

“ Really?” She says, in a voice she hopes is convincing. “ That’s interesting.” 

Charles nods. “ Yeah, spent a whole fortune on this place. But the money comes in well so can’t complain…” Then a beat, and he turns to her. The smile still there. “So, is there anything in particular that you need or are lookin’ for around here? I know we got tons of stuff lying around and what not but…” 

“Oh! No!” Irene quickly holds up her hand, shaking her head. “ No, nothing at all. I was jus—looking. Just looking around.” 

Charles seems to understand, his mouth pulling firm in a line as he slowly nods. “Well if you’re just looking, then I guess I should get back to my business.” 

He shows off a crooked smile, then leans down to pick the box off the waxed tiles. In the seconds he does, Irene searches the floor between her feet, avoiding his gaze. 

“ If you’re in need of anything, Barbara’s always happy to sell or help if needed.” 

He turns away from her and walks back to round another. Irene releases a brief sigh of relief, forcing the ache in her shoulders to calm a bit. Gods, when has she gotten so anxious? All this unnecessary pressure around her chest and hands has made her feel caged somehow. Made her feel like she was unable to speak or meet eyes or do much of anything at all. 

She continues to walk on until she spies a table with three serve-yourself coffee makers off in the corner. Thinks on it, and decides to go pour herself a cup. One little drink of bad caffeine couldn’t hurt for a bit right? 

There’s a little sign on one of them that reads in badly typed comic sans: TRY OUR BREW! All CUSTOMERS WELCOME! Topped with a gimmicky stock photo rendition of an emoji holding its own cup of joe. Smiling at that, she goes for a cup. They’re set away on an inconveniently high shelf for her height, so in reaching for one, she’s almost leaning over the table. White cloth sliding against her loose orange button-up. She goes to grab for a lid, when her elbow knocks with the side of the percolator, and the still healing scar on her forearm pulses with an anchor-deep ache she hasn’t taken notice of until the affronted muscles cried out, blistering, and she flinches— 

It is then that she starts to become signally, fully, unmistakably aware of the bruise that flowers her elbow. The discoloring of skin around the oval scab that draws a line from the mountain out her joint to the bend under her upper arm. She stills for a moment, eyeing it carefully. Studying it odd as if it had jumped onto her skin somehow; a foreign object she had missed. Then— 

It’s quick, like a flash. Something comes back to her in her head. Something distant, and off centered, marked by the presence of haze, and Irene sees herself somewhere else. Bigger, brash and much larger than life in a different shop, in a different time. A crash, something like loud blistering heat cutting at the tough skin of her arm. A shout, a voice so tinny and small; a face like a red beast holding something slick like smooth metal in its hands, she feels an odd heart beat thudding loud in her chest. Then white lights, then running. 

Irene catches herself, her fingers forgetting the cup to grab at the table cloth. Gripping hard and tense. One of her hands comes up to rub at her face, staring into the floor, bewildered. What the fuck was that? 

_"You’ll get yourself worked up if you think about it too much."_

Irene pauses, shoots her head up, looking around for anybody nearby. There’s no one in ear-shot of her. She’s by herself. 

“ Whatever it is you are trying to do…” Kardala warns, from someplace within her. Irene can feel her threads of being pull at someplace warm and desperate, burning through her ribcage as she stands more straight. “Stop. You will only hurt yourself.” 

“ Where did this scar come from?” She asks. Speaking in mind, because she doesn’t like the idea of having a verbal conversation with her other self in public. 

Kardala doesn’t say a word, her silence muddled out by the noise of the work in the shop. It leaves Irene unnerved, her eyes squinting. “ Do you?” 

“Ask the Demon.” Kardala simply says. 

A weird answer, and she doesn’t like it. She makes it sound like it’s some well-kept secret. Irene can feel a scoff coming over her, hear it actually leave her mouth and turns her head to look towards the wall where the bathrooms stood. Nadiya had took Mary off in there to take care of something she didn’t quite explain to her when they went. The most she got as an answer was something along the lines of a “ minor check-up” and nothing else. Irene didn’t really know what that meant, but she didn’t bother to press for answers. Too caught up in her head to ask. 

“ You know, it’s not nice to call people demons.” 

“ But is she not one? Her abilities to hide emotion is something of an enormous feat I have yet to understand. 

“That’s not true at all and you know it. She’s a nice girl who’s just hasn’t learned how to open up yet. You shouldn’t label her as emotionless just cause she chooses not to show out.” 

“Hm. It is not my qualm if you choose to believe that, but I know the truth and I still stand by my words. Her extraordinary abilities are not of human origin.” 

She makes a face, deciding from that, to turn away from the conversation. She goes for her discarded cup and begins filling it up, absentmindedly thinking back to her scar. She feels a bit warm in the forehead, taking a napkin up and dabbing the along her hairline, she sighs. Suddenly tired. 

“ My head hurts.” 

“ There is medication in the car. Kardala says, “You should take some. Your headaches are likely due from hunger. The little man has offered to go look for some food while the demon and the Sage woman tend to their wounds.” 

“Wounds?” Irene perks at that, half-way through squeezing the lid on her cup. She looks back to the percolators. A line of concern drawing to her forehead. “ What happened?” 

“ Something not good.” 

“ Like what?” 

After a moment, when the goddess doesn’t answer, Irene persists. 

“ It would be wise to ask the demon about it.” 

“ Why? Why can’t you just tell me?” 

The sound of a door screeches open a few feet away from the back of the store. Out the corner of her eye, Irene spies the familiar form of Nadiya and Mary round the corner and walk out. She watches them maneuver through basket stands of flowers and shelves of old Russian dolls before they reach the storekeep. Nadiya passes something into the storekeep’s hands, whose eyes are wild on Mary throughout the entire exchange. Nadiya says some words and the woman behind the counter just nods and waves, tacking on some friendly have a nice day platitude as they walked off. 

As the two women come closer, Irene gets a glimpse of their figures, and she can kinda see why the storekeep was so bewildered. Mary, despite how clean and kempt up her washed face looks, is a shaky nervous thing standing beside Nadiya. A blown apart mess in her too loose clothing. The collar of her shirt is wet, buttons done up crooked, unruly; the neck hole exposing some of her collar bone. The blotched red coloring of her cheeks, her shirt—chin, neck. Nadiya has wrinkles in her clothes, dark tired moons etch their home between the hills of her eyes and cheek bone. Their gaunt hands held together, one shaking and one firm, and despite what all cleanliness they had to salvage, Irene thinks to herself, they somehow look worse than they did walking in. 

They say some words to each other, then Mary parts, sporting a small smile on her lips when Irene’s and her eyes meet. She watches the red head go, and Nadiya steps closer. 

“ Hey.” Nadiya addresses, eyeing up Irene. “ You all set to go?” 

Irene tries to speak, but finds her words are stuck to the back of her throat, she simply nods her head. Swallowing stiffly. 

Ha! Thinks Kardala, a laugh too loud, it rattles against Irene’s teeth. You can’t even ask her! 

_Hush._

“ Great.” There’s a patient, but hard tired line to Nadiya’s voice, one Irene can’t help but notice. She remembers Remy telling her about how Nadiya spent most of her time on this trip driving them everywhere and never sleeping for more than an hour, and something in her chest itches. 

Nadiya looks to the cup in Irene’s hands, a beat. “ Grab me a cup?” 

“ Sure.” She blurts out, without even asking. “What kind?” 

“Black. Two shots of cream if they have any.” 

A simple task, Irene can handle that. She can handle pretty much anything besides an aggravated goddess riding shotgun in her body. She starts to turn back just as Nadiya pulls two crumpled fives out from the confounds of her pockets. 

“ Here, for the coffee in case a cup isn’t free. And, if you’re feeling up for a snack from here instead of waiting on Remy.”She passes it to Irene than steps back. In the middle of watching Irene un-crumple the bills, she asks. “ Hey, are you alright?” 

Irene looks up surprised. “ Uh, yeah. I’m fine. I’m okay.” 

Nadiya nods, but there’s hesitance there, her brows creasing as she looks to the floor then back to Irene. “ Okay, just making sure.” She says, “See you outside?” 

“ Yeah. See you.” 

Nadiya makes for the door, the bell at the top chiming as she leaves the shorter woman behind to check up on the other two who are no doubt still waiting outside. And here Irene stands in the middle of this stuffy gift-shop. One coffee sitting in the palm of her shaking hand and repeats those same words in her head. It feels nice, proper somehow. Even if it’s not quite the right words. She still feels somehow at peace with it. A small smile comes over her as she fixes up her friend’s drink. 

I’m okay.” 

She feels Kardala somewhere swimming in her chest. Soft aura filing up the mountain of her ribcage and to the bridge of her neck in a warmth so real, so desperate, she almost chokes; the lid in her hand squished hazardly on the cup in reaction. She imagines hands where they are bones. Imagines breathing where there is a heartbeat, and knows that Kardala feels the same. 

We are. We’re okay. Kardala booms, a thundering long shudder through Irene and she almost laughs, wiping at her face, doesn’t realize she’s crying. 

And right she thinks. 

They’re okay.  

* * *

Somewhere between Ashville and the long winding road to Atlanta, Irene and Nadiya made the switch. It took a lot of begging, and a lot of Irene’s patient tender words and soft reasonings to wear down the stubborn wall that was Nadiya’s pride and her strict driving rules. Irene thinks that it’s for the best and that Nadiya deserves to have some rest for once. She’s been putting in so much of the work, it only seems fair that one or two of them pitch in to help every once in a while. Remy was actually surprised that Irene managed to wear down the wall where he had only scratched the surface with Nadiya. But was happy nonetheless; anything that gets her butt out of the driver’s seat is a fine solution to him. Seeing no complaints and took to the back seat where he and Mary hung out. 

Irene didn’t mind, it was just a nice way to recollect herself. Gather her thoughts and maybe get a better handle again on her motor skills since it’s been so long since she’s come back from—well, that. She doesn’t really have a word for what that place is, but its sticky and cramped and awfully not as cold as she would have pictured it to be. Maybe with more room, and a little bit of light. If she could build that place to her liking, she would have added all sorts of nice things to mend it into something of a second home. To which, in a way, sounds ridiculous because she’s pretty sure Kardala resonates there? Or at least she does when Irene’s in the driver’s seat. Steering the reigns of her body all the way, relishing in her control. 

It’s been a quiet drive so far, they’re driving fast highway side; buildings mixed in the splash green of trees, blurring past. 

Nadiya is in the passenger seat, quiet, elbow locked with the side of the window. Her chin meeting the coarse palm of her hand, looking outward. While the other two in the back, lie out and sleep the last few hours of their trip away. There’s crumpled paper of sandwich wraps and the sweet bitter smell of three-hour old coffee cups sitting like a barrier between Nadiya and Irene. 

“ So where are we going again?” 

“ We’re heading to a place called Huntington Hills.” Nadiya sighs. She’s put her hair up in a tight bun. The fixture of sunlight outside the window hones in on the dome of it, a shiny blotch of bitter-autumn red. “ It’s a couple of miles away from the main city. 

“ Huntington Hills…” 

“Yeah. Remy’s place. It’s not that far.” 

Right. Irene thinks, because she should’ve remember that. “And when did we all plan this?” 

Nadiya look over to her, stares, then turns back to her window. “ Back a couple of days. We were staying at a hotel at the time, and were trying to figure out on where to go from there.” 

Right. Right. 

“Right.” Irene slows, searching the side mirror for incoming cars, then turns on her blinker, changing lanes. Right. 

“Did no one like, debrief you on this? Or…” Nadiya starts, she’s sitting up in her seat now. Turned firmly away from the window and Irene wishes her voice wasn’t so sharp-tipped, wasn’t so stripped of mildness. 

“No, I did, I just. Swam over most of the details.” She says. It’s not the perfect answer, and it don’t make a lot of sense, but its the only excuse she thinks Nadiya can weather over ‘My mind blanked and I zoned out.’ Digging her fingers deep into the shell of the wheel, coughs just so she can get her words up. “ Little by little it’s coming to me. But it wasn’t like I didn’t have help.” 

She was right though, Nadiya doesn’t look like she believes those words. But all she does is hum curtly , like that acts as a response, nodding some. If Irene could turn and look at her in this moment, she would. But she refrains. They’re in the car right now, and she’s driving, and turning her eyes away from the wheel is a dangerous thing, something she would never do. Because she’s a good driver, and knows not to take her eyes off the road. Because she’s that all-star samaritan that follows the rules and keeps things centered. A neat and tidy woman; all wool and a yard wide. She would never. Absolutely she would never. 

And after what feels like a long breath of silence, Nadiya shifts in her seat, settling backward. “ Kardala I assume?” 

“ Somewhat, there’s still some things she hasn’t told me. But I’ve asked Remy and figured it out, put two and two together and all that. But it was a lot to take in. She says, “and some things were a lot harder to process than others but I took it all in stride…” 

“ I’m surprised she told you anything at all. Given how much she hates being ‘imprisoned’ in you.” Nadiya points out, “I would think communications on your end would be moot.” 

Irene’s mouth curls, with a laugh under her breath. Low and warbly. “ I used to think the same myself. Even though we have our differences, we still try to navigate ways to make things more amicable between us, despite our situation.” 

“ And is it working?” 

Irene takes a beat to respond. Outside, a bright green-blur of a sign buzzes past them. “ I don’t think so.” 

Nadiya sighs at that, expectant. “ She’s a brash woman—er, goddess.” She shrugs, not sure if she should be using one or the other. “ Has she always been in you? Or was it just—” 

Nadiya lifts her arm up and unrolls a sleeve. Points to it. Suggesting towards the STEM-plants. 

“ No. I mean she was, but. She wasn’t as vocal as she was back before.” 

“ Before…?” 

“ When I was little. A long time ago, and maybe even before that.” She laughs, it’s short and startled, but its a laugh all the same. Then brings it back down, her shoulders forming hills. “ During those long years, I always felt like I wasn’t by myself. Like there was a shadow watching over me. The feeling never escaped, even as I grew older. In fact, I think it got worse.” 

Most of that, from what she knows is the truth. Even if in a way, she can’t quite remember when and where those feelings came from, where that shadow first appeared. But she knows without a shadow of a doubt that it’s always been with her. This small once intangible feeling she’d get from the aching hole in her chest. 

There was always something disconcertingly off about the way her body clenched at the first signs of thunder. The way the hairs on the back of her head always stood out; clear, vibrating with a life that was not her own. And there was something to be said about the way she felt stretched too thin in her own body. Like there was a thing within her. Burrowed deep in the shape of her bones, churning, blossoming into something with hard lines and jagged angles. A form that felt extended down; ancient in the ways her mothers used to tell her stories about gods and the people of the north. Bold in the ways she felt when she danced in rain, pink boots stomping dirty side-walk puddles, relishing in its bath. The way her veins thrummed with the existence of lightning, and snow, wind and rumbling thunder. A raging, unforgivably volatile thing. Menacing but alive. 

“ Wow.” Nadiya says, breaking up the silence. “ I never knew it went that deep.” 

_No one knew._ Irene thinks. Almost says. 

When the stretch of the city of the finally came into view, they rolled at at brisk, less speeding pace. The sun rolling over the dome of the city’s skyline; light essentiates its form. Fleshing out the outlines, and drawing out the shadows. 

They make it to a stoplight at the first left turn. The map on the dashboard skids, and Nadiya pulls it into her hands to read the street names. In that time, Irene is thankful for this moment of peace, for this moment of brief respite. She feels like she’s opened a dam up, words flooding out through rubber-slick lips, and yet somehow it feels like she’s only spilt a drop of who she is. Of what she feels she is, and more. 

She scratches at her shirt, at the orange fabric that rubs uncomfortably against her neck. Wishing, not for the first time, that she had grabbed a spare set of clothing from her locker before fleeing on this trip. Then realizing quickly, how ridiculous that thought was, fingers pausing stiff; a nervous twitch. 

It feels wrong to mourn something as trivial as a pair of sweats when there is so much else to worry about, but thinking about the Fellowship, after what all Remy had told her, and all the wreckage they left behind makes her chest tight. 

And If she thinks of it for too long, she’ll start to get moody and then— 

Well, maybe it was easier pretending she had less to worry about than. Better to be worried about a pair of pants than to think about a whole berg sucked into the ocean. Then it can’t be so overwhelming. 

And yet— 

“ What music station is this?” Nadiya asks over the static talk of the radio, Twisting quick through stations. A blubber of smooth tawny voices of southern era, mixes in with the raw electric cries of rockstars. There’s this brief flicker of emotion out of Nadiya, like heat lightning, her brows furrowing as she scrambles for tunes. She's got this funny look on her face. Thin lips pursed and eyes look built with a bowstring tension in the dark city lights. And Irene gets this shaky feeling in her gut, that she wasn’t the only one aching for a consolation. 

“ Country.” 

Nadiya’s nose bunches up. “ Gross.” 

“ You don’t like country?’ 

“ Never did, it was always so weird. Artists singing about trackers and cheatin’ husbands and honky tonk? Ugh, spare me…” 

Irene laughs good-naturedly and her worry ebbs. “ Not even Jolene, by Dolly Parton?” 

There’s a beat of silence between them, almost for a whole minute as the light turns green and Irene drives off. 

“Alright.” Nadiya says, “You got me beat there.” Irene smiles—something bright, and Nadiya ducks her head sheepishly. 

The reaction is enough to send Irene guffawing, so much so, she almost loses control of the wheel.  


End file.
